He is fifteen and ten and five. He is an instant. He is flying back to her. He is hers again. She feels the weight of him in her chest as he comes into her arms. He is her son, her beloved child, and she takes him back.

Hope is a horrible thing, you know. It’s a plague. It’s like walking around with a fishhook in your mouth and someone just keep pulling it and pulling it.STATE OF WONDER