The waitress came by, smiling kindly.
“Your usual, Helen?” she asked.
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“What do you like?” I asked.
He let out a small, surprised laugh.
“Uh… pancakes, I guess.”
I nodded.
“Then two orders of pancakes,” I said.
The waitress grinned and walked away.
As I sat there, across from the young man who carried my husband’s past—and perhaps his future—I realized something.
Love doesn’t disappear when someone leaves.
It changes.
It grows.
