He laughed softly.

Then he sat beside me, leaning against the headboard.

For several minutes, we said nothing.

Eventually, he rested his head against my shoulder.

I didn’t move.

I simply sat there with my son, remembering how often I’d worried about our future.

For two years, I’d believed it was entirely my responsibility to hold our family together.

To pay every bill.

Solve every problem.

Protect both boys.

And make certain nothing terrible happened again.

But I’d overlooked something important.

My oldest son had been helping carry our family through those difficult years.

Not because he had to replace his father.

Not because I expected him to become an adult before his time.

But because he loved us.

And when he had the opportunity to help a neighbor, he showed that same compassion to someone outside our family.

I gently rested my cheek against his hair.

For so long, I’d been watching for signs that Logan might become someone I couldn’t recognize.

I had almost missed seeing the wonderful young man he already was.

And that night, as he slept peacefully against my shoulder, I finally allowed myself to believe something I hadn’t believed since Daniel died.

We were going to be alright.

Not because life would suddenly become easy.

But because we had each other.

And sometimes, that is more than enough.