On the cutting board, I laid out the last of the bread.
Two slices for Noah's sandwich.
A wrinkled apple from the bottom of the fruit bowl.
A small handful of crackers in a folded napkin because the snack-sized bags had run out two weeks ago.
It was not much, but it was something.
I tucked it all into his blue lunchbox and zipped it shut.
"Mom?"
Noah stood in the doorway in his pajamas, his hair sticking up on one side, his small frame swallowed by the hallway behind him.
"You're up early, love," I said. "Come sit. I'll make your toast."
He padded over and climbed onto the chair, watching me the way he had lately.
Quiet.
Careful.
Like he was studying something he could not quite name.
"Did you eat yet?" he asked.
I smiled at him without turning around.
"I will, baby. After you leave."
"You said that yesterday."
"And I did eat yesterday."
He did not answer.
I felt his eyes on my back as I buttered the bread.
I set the toast in front of him and brushed his hair down with my fingers.
He leaned into my palm for a second, then picked up the slice and began nibbling at the crust like he was rationing it.
"Eat the whole thing, okay?" I said. "You're growing."
"You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
He smiled then, just a small one, but it was enough to loosen something in my chest.
I kissed the top of his head and breathed him in.
He smelled like sleep and the cheap shampoo I had switched to last month.
"Go get dressed, mister. The bus comes in 20 minutes."
He slid off the chair and disappeared down the hall.
I leaned against the counter and pressed both hands to my face, just for a moment, just long enough to remind myself that I could do this.
I could.
When he came back, he was dressed, and his backpack was already on his shoulders, the straps too long and the bottom bouncing near the backs of his knees.
He grabbed his lunchbox from the table and held it against his chest like it was something precious.
"Got everything?" I asked.
"Sandwich, apple, crackers," he recited.
"Good boy. Now what do we say?"
"Eat everything, okay? You're growing."
He said it in a sing-song voice, trying to be funny, but his eyes were serious.
