The kitchen filled with the aroma of pancakes, soft talk in the late night/very early morning, the sky nowhere close to hinting at dawn. Gram wielded her favorite spatula like a weapon as Charlotte hovered by the door, staring out into the dark. Shenka squeezed my shoulder as she went about her usual business and I realized then, we'd made ourselves an oddly organized and predictable family. With a routine. I felt like the 50s dad who sat around while life went on without him, ...