Homemade biscuits, gravy, eggs, bacon, grits . . . There was so much food on the table, I thought it was already Thanksgiving. Aunt Luchie, Jamison, and I sat at the table as Tyrian rocked in a swing Isabella had set up in the kitchen. It was the first time we were eating as a family, and while we were just making small talk, it felt so good to be in that space. Like we were whole for the first time in a long time. When we finished eating, Jamison got up from the table and kissed Tyrian and me on the cheek before heading to work. He did it methodically, so practiced, as if it was something he’d been doing or thinking of doing every morning for his entire life. “Bye babies,” he said, exiting with a hopeful smile on his face. I didn’t respond. I just smiled back and nodded. “Wow, that was great,” I said to Aunt Luchie. I got up from the table and began helping her put the dishes away. “Thank you, baby. I thought we could all use a little something extra on our stomachs this morning,”
