I laughed so hard I almost cried.
Later, Denise mailed us a copy of the photo.
“Did you have fun on my birthday?”
In it, I did not look young.
I did not look glamorous.
I looked happy.
And beside me, Amelia looked safe.
That was enough.
“What was your favorite part?”
That night, after the long drive home, Amelia curled up beside me on the couch in her pajamas, still smelling faintly like chlorine and sunscreen.
“Did you have fun on my birthday?” she asked.
I smiled. “I did.”
“What was your favorite part?”
I brushed her hair back from her forehead.
“You help me all the time. Today I helped you.”
“Watching you stand up for me.”
She thought about that for a second. Then she leaned against me and said, “You help me all the time. Today I helped you.”
I held her close.
