I didn’t sleep much that night.
Every sound in the house seemed louder.
The refrigerator.
The heating pipes.
A car passing outside.
At around eleven o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Mom went downstairs.
I followed quietly.
It was Grandpa.
He stood on the porch wearing his dark coat.
He looked tired.
Very tired.
Mom opened the door but didn’t invite him in.
“Dad, why are you here?”
“I came for Lily.”
Mom’s face hardened.
“No.”
Grandpa looked at her calmly.
“Sarah.”
“No.”
“You know why I’m here.”
“You should be resting.”
“I have rested enough.”
“She is nine.”
“I know exactly how old she is.”
“She doesn’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then maybe she should.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“You can’t do this.”
Grandpa looked past her.
I was standing on the stairs.
He saw me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
That same gentle smile.
“Hello, little bird.”
