B, en route to L.A., leaves later than we want. Forgets to get the car inspected. Sits with us while rush hour hums so that she can have a final dinner with her mom at the busiest restaurant in town. We all do what we can to prepare for departure, which means preparing to be apart, to be here while she builds a life somewhere else. Thus, the grumbles. The uncertainties. The way we look too often at our cell phones. And still, in the driveway, we hug again. And once more.

January 16, 2015