I went home, trying to focus on practical things, snacks the kids would want, yarn we still had left, gentle colors Myra liked. I cleaned the kitchen twice, wiped the table for no reason, and rearranged the cushions like that would chase away the ache.
Half an hour later, the knock came. When I opened the door, Myra was there first, holding a huge bundle of raw wool mixed with glowing snow-velvet fibers. Her smile was so bright it made the hallway glow with her happiness.
“I got the special wool!” she said proudly. “Daddy let me choose the color!”
The twins rushed past her, shouting over each other.
“Mom, look! Real snowy-wool!”
“And Uncle let us see the storage! There were so many dyes!”
“And we’re gonna fix the scarf!”
“And mix the aura right!”
“And…and…”
Vincent stepped in last
