For her left eye, I choose Slate Blue, blending it with Cream White and just a hint of Metallic Silver. For the right eye, I use a combination of Burnt Ochre, Sienna Brown, and Dark Umber. From there, I go on to draw the outline of her head, with her one floppy ear and one pointy ear. I continue to outline her body, making sure to get her fluffy foxtail just right. I start gathering the colors I need to make all the shades of her fur; I’m pretty sure I’ll need to use about ninety-nine different pencils to get it right.

Suddenly I hear Noah calling from downstairs, “Moms are home!”

I look down at my drawing and it’s nearly finished. Her fur has all the different colors blended together. And I drew the trees and woods all around her—I don’t even remember doing that. Outside, the light has changed and I can tell it must be nearly dinnertime.

“And Gramps is with them,” Noah yells again.

I race down the stairs, prepared to greet Gramps and tell Moms about the dog and to ask if we can make our special French toast breakfast for dinner—I love breakfast-for-dinner nights—but when I step into the kitchen I feel like I’m walking into a wall.

Not an actual wall, an invisible one made up of emotions and tension and people being upset. It’s the kind of wall that stops me in my tracks.

Gramps is standing in the middle of the living room, tightly holding on to the handle of a briefcase, like if he lets it go, he might float away. There are two more big pieces of luggage sitting in the entryway.

“Noah?” Mom calls, as she hangs up her coat in the closet by the front door. “Will you come help put Grandpa’s bags in the guest bedroom?”

“Hey, Gramps,” Noah says as he walks across the room toward the two suitcases. But Gramps doesn’t say anything; he just keeps holding on to that briefcase, looking very different than usual. I wonder if he got a haircut or if it’s how his jacket is zipped all the way up to his chin. But then I realize why he looks so strange: He’s not smiling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gramps when he hasn’t been smiling.

Mom walks into the living room and flips the switch on the wall, and as the big overhead light turns on, Gramps blinks and it looks like he has just woken up, sort of like when I’ve been drawing and suddenly realize that time has passed. He looks around the room, and that’s when I notice something else: he has a big Band-Aid on his forehead, and I wonder what happened.