Unlike me, Noah is not an introvert. He inherited his openness, his “never meets a stranger-ness” from Aiko. He’s only known Kimba for a short time, but he has no problem grabbing her hand and laughing, dancing with her. They look free and unfettered. Kimba kicks off her shoes, and her bare, pretty feet shuffle through the grass as easily as I’ve seen her walk red carpets on television. I didn’t know what to call what I used to feel for Kimba—the desire to have her with me all the time; to know her better than everyone else did. It was an innocent possessiveness that she reflected back to me even then. She wanted that from me. It was earnest and pure. But the first time I saw her on CNN, talking easily, debating someone from the other side of the aisle, systematically picking apart his argument with surgical, intelligent precision, no sign of the stutter that plagued her before, I felt immeasurably proud.

But also jealous. Possessive. I’d discovered this beautiful butterfly when she was a caterpillar and she had been completely mine. Now the whole world marveled at the spread of her wings, basked in her vibrant color. Now everyone knew how fantastic she was and she’d never be just mine again.

“Dad!” Noah shouts over the music. “Get up!”

Still on beat, he dances over, dragging Kimba by the hand.

“You know better than that,” I tell him with a laugh, flicking a glance at Kimba. She’s glowing. It’s not just the lights Mona strung through the trees, or even the fine sheen of perspiration misting her smooth skin. It’s from inside.

She’s home.

Somehow I knew she needed to come back. Does she realize how free she seems? I secretly worried about her from afar, watching her manage one of the most successful political campaigns in our nation’s history. Watching her guide and ride Maxim Cade’s presidential bid to political fame. It had to be exhausting. I wanted rest for her, and she seems to be getting it.

“Baaak baaak bak bak,” Noah crows, doing his chicken dance. “Dad’s scared to dance.”

“Peer pressure,” I deadpan. “Real original, son. And highly ineffective on someone like me. Know your opponent.”

“Come on.” Kimba joins Noah’s cajoling, the two of them dancing in front of me as I sit stubbornly in place on the wall.