Despite everything, it is not all bad. Your daughter plays with her uncles, holds her grandfather’s hands. You and your husband run through the woods, picking your way over buried rocks and vines, your hearts pumping, your heads finally clear. You stand by a lake and breathe deep, watch the trees reflected, the blue sky. You take your daughter to a cornfield, watch the sun set warm over the brittle stalks. She plants an acorn and covers it with leaves. The houses glow with Christmas lights; your brother-in-law brings home a tree. On your last day home you hang the ornaments, childhood memories wrapped in tissue paper, opened tenderly, with care.