I use my fork to cut into the pancake and force myself to stare at it. I only last about three seconds before I look across the table and watch her eat. I gave her a stack of pancakes and sausage, and she's almost cleared her plate, but the part that's driving me crazy is she keeps sucking the syrup off her thumb.

The whole time I cooked we talked and moved around the kitchen like we'd been doing it forever. Something about being with her here feels strangely familiar. The space she occupies ...