“Kira brought it to me a few days ago,” she said. “She’d gotten it almost all the way untangled, her mom worked on it, even Sean tried. Poor Kira, she was embarrassed to ask me for help; she wanted to do it for you by herself. I promised her I would get it free, and so here you are…early birthday gift from all of us.”

I touched the cool links of the necklace, perfect and strong and whole. All this time, all those hands, still not broken.

There is not a fragment in all nature, for every relative fragment of one thing is a full harmonious unit in itself.

For the first time in so long, my racing heart was warm and calm. Happy. I put my arms around Francine and hugged her tight. “Should we take Terry Johnson for his before-bed walk?”

“Let’s,” she said. “I’ll get him leashed up.”

Because that was the routine in this house. In our home.

—

“Together, please, we have to smoosh. Oh my God, you people are hopeless. Closer, so we can see the ‘Muir.’ ” Kira held her phone out as far as she could, but the four of us—Sean, Elliot, Kira, and I—were not going to fit in the frame with the entire text of the carved sign at the entrance of Muir Woods.

“Just let me take one of you guys,” Elliot said, camera, as always, at the ready.

“No,” she said. “We have to all be in it; I’ll get it.”

Early-morning coastal June fog swirled around us, floating ghostly into the trees. My whole body buzzed with anticipation.

“I told you, we should have brought a selfie stick,” Elliot said.

“No way.” Sean stretched his arm from the weird position he’d been holding it for the picture. “No nonessentials; the key to a well-packed suitcase is not organization. It is simplicity.”

“Be still, my heart,” I sighed, and fell into his arms.

“Get a room,” Kira said, but smiling. “Excuse me,” she called to a woman pushing a stroller. “Could you take our picture, please, under the sign? So all the words show?”

“Love to!” The woman took Kira’s phone and immediately began art directing, producing major eye-rolls from Elliot. “Okay, let’s go boy-girl-boy-girl. You there, Tall Guy, let’s see some crouching….Good, okay! Tattoo Girl, you look great, chin up a little….Beautiful! Hiking-Shorts Guy, left arm behind you, perfect, and you…” She looked past the screen to me.

Being unremarkable has been the hallmark and savior of my existence. There is no tactful way to describe invisible.

“Happy Girl,” she said. “Yes, you. Move right beside Hiking Shorts. I love it. Okay, now everyone say, Muir National Monument National Park Service Department of Interior!”