The week before Noah’s visit moved slower than expected, but in a good way. The rain had finally given way to pale autumn sunlight that made the leaves on Maple Lane glow gold and orange. Elias and I spent our days doing things that felt grounding — fixing the fence together, canning tomatoes with Lena’s help, and even attending the small town harvest planning meeting where Mrs. Delgado insisted we help judge the pie contest.
One evening, while we were sorting through old photo albums on the porch (something Elias suggested as a way to remember the good parts of the past before adding new chapters), Amina called again.
“Hey,” she said, her voice bright but a little anxious. “Noah’s confirmed the dates. He’ll be here Friday evening and leave Sunday afternoon. He’s packing a board game he
