The room had not grown.
The family had.
The doorbell rang again while Daniel was opening the door.
On the step, his younger grandson stood with one finger still pressed against the button. His brother carried a small bag with both arms, holding it carefully away from the ground.
“We’re here,” the younger boy announced.
“I had begun to suspect it,” Daniel said.
Mae appeared beside him. Before she could finish her greeting, a little girl had reached around her knees. Behind the children, their parents waited with a baby, a larger bag, and a coat nobody seemed to be wearing.
Daniel opened the door farther.
Through the Doorway
The older boy handed Mae his bag. Inside were two toy cars and a drawing, folded small enough to have acquired several new corners.
“I brought something.”
“I see that.”
“Don’t unfold it yet. I have to explain.”
Mae set it on the side table, where he could reach it later. Daniel took the larger bag from the children’s mother and moved it away from the doorway. Their father came in with the baby against his shoulder, her small pink sleeve brushing his collar.
Their grown child paused beside the kitchen table, touching the edge where a mark remained in the wood
“That’s still there.”
Mae glanced down. “You worked very hard on it.”
“With a spoon, wasn’t it?”
“Repeatedly.”
Daniel hung the loose coat by the door. From the sitting room came the sound of a toy car finding the skirting board.
The Familiar Sofa
Mae sat beside Daniel at one end of the sofa. The children’s mother settled farther along, and the little girl climbed onto her lap. Their father took the remaining place, shifting the baby so she could look towards the others.
On the carpet, the boys sent a car between their knees. The younger one leaned back against Daniel’s legs, then tipped his head up to ask whether the sofa had always been there.
“For quite a while.”
“Before us?”
“A little before you.”
Mae reached across to straighten the older boy’s collar. He ducked, smiling, and discovered Daniel’s white hat resting beside the sofa arm.
“May I?”
Daniel lifted it and handed it down.
The boy put it on. The brim came to rest just above his nose.
Under the Brim
For a moment, he sat very straight, both hands planted on his knees. His brother studied the arrangement, then pointed towards him.
“Grandpa!”
Daniel leaned forward. “Yes?”
“Not you. That one.”
The boy beneath the hat turned towards the voice. Unable to see much, he lifted the brim with both hands. His face appeared, delighted with the discovery that he could be recognised without being visible.
Mae laughed first. The little girl on her mother’s lap joined in, then their father, who had to pause while the baby patted his chin. Soon the boy was laughing so hard that the hat slipped down again.
Daniel reached to steady it. The boy caught his wrist gently and held the brim up himself.
“It fits.”
“In several directions,” Daniel agreed.
Close Enough
The older boy stayed beneath the hat while his brother fetched the small bag from the side table and brought the drawing to Mae. She unfolded it above the carpet, and both boys moved closer to explain the marks. The little girl leaned forward from her mother’s lap, offering an explanation of her own.
Daniel shifted his knee to give them room. Mae’s shoulder came against his as she turned the paper so he could see. He stayed where he was, listening while the boys disagreed cheerfully about which line was the road.
Then the hat touched his knee.
His grandson had tipped it back and was looking up at him.
“You can have it again when we go.”
Daniel glanced at Mae, who was still holding the drawing open.
“No hurry,” he said.
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