"Mama, Papa," he said, his voice threaded with a quiet fortitude that belied his tender age, "you both look like you're carrying the moon on your shoulders."

Jason and I exchanged a glance, the weight of our son's observation anchoring us back into the gravity of our roles. Eden reached out, his small hand finding mine, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know it's big and heavy," he continued, eyes gleaming with an otherworldly conviction, "but I also know you can lift it. Together, you're ...