Moy seemed happy, too, looking out the window, taking in everything. I could finally understand what Tante Rose meant when she said the word “miracle.” Our reunion felt even more wondrous than a miracle, a dream too large for even Franck’s giant jeep to contain.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22

We slept until noon, then ventured out to see the street. The snow had stopped falling, but there was still a lot of it on the ground.

The street was quiet, the red-bricked row houses lined up like snowcapped soldiers standing at full attention. The snow now seemed to muffle things, even people, who as they walked past us would keep their heads low, close to their chests, their entire bodies covered in layers of thick material, their faces wrapped with scarves, which, even if they were looking at us, would barely allow us to see their eyes.

It suddenly occurred to me that we looked like those people. Papa had gotten us sweaters, knit caps, scarves, coats, and rubber boots that made squishing noises each time we took a step.

Out in the cold, I understood why the people walking past us didn’t raise their heads, for each time I raised mine, my nose ran, my eyes watered, and my face twitched as though a million ice needles were being hammered into my skin. Each time I took a step, I kept slipping on ice patches, nearly falling down. Even though the sun was shining, it did nothing to warm me. Instead it seemed allied with the chill, transforming itself into something I never knew existed, a cold sun.

Needless to say, we were only outside for a few minutes. Manman couldn’t bear much more than that and pleaded with Papa to take us back inside.

Papa said we would soon get used to the cold, just as he has. But I don’t think I will ever get used to this cold that seeps into your body, all the way to your bones.

LATER

We live in a two-bedroom apartment on the ground floor of one of the row houses owned by Franck. Manman and Papa have the larger bedroom and I have a smaller one next to theirs. Poor Moy is sleeping in the front room again.

We are waiting for a larger apartment upstairs, which will become available at the end of February. Then Moy will finally have his own room.

After our brief trip outside, we spent the afternoon cooking and talking. Papa wanted to hear about everything that’s happened in Beau Jour since he’s been gone. He had so many questions that even before we finished answering one question, he already had another. It seemed like he asked about everyone and everything he’s ever known.