“The next year,” Bunny said, “the husband wasn’t there, and she was happy, but subdued. Brittle, and yet, so, so strong. The magic trailed after her when she chased her toddler in the garden, helping him look for his presents. She was still tired. Still did all the work. But she didn’t cry once that day. And yet, I couldn’t help but want to be there with her, inside the house, helping her cook, load the dishwasher, or just massaging her tired shoulders.”
