A year later, both families arranged a joint birthday party, mostly at my suggestion, though nobody objected once I raised it.
We rented a small park pavilion, balloons in two different colors for two different one-year-olds, a slightly absurd celebration of the worst week either family had ever lived through, somehow transformed into something worth marking.
I stood near the entrance for a moment before anyone else arrived, taking in the whole absurd scene, two matching cakes, two matching banners, a party built entirely around an anniversary nobody would have chosen but everyone had somehow decided was worth honoring anyway.
