I laughed.
“Oh, he knew how to make good ones. He just preferred making you laugh.”
For the first time in a long while, we talked about David without either of us becoming overwhelmed by sadness.
We remembered his terrible jokes.
The way he sang while cooking.
How he always claimed he invented the world’s best pancake recipe, even though it came straight from the instructions on the box.
Noah laughed so hard at one memory that he nearly dropped the spatula.
And I realized something important.
My son wasn’t forgetting his father.
He was remembering him in ways I hadn’t recognized.
Halfway through dinner, Noah’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and smiled.
“It’s Grace.”
“What does she say?”
“She wants me to help her make something.”
“What kind of something?”
He grinned.
“She won’t tell me.”
Then he turned his phone toward me.
