My husband refused to walk my 17-year-old daughter, his stepdaughter for nine years, at her high school senior night. “That’s something a real father should do,” he told her. But when her name was announced Thursday evening, her 79-year-old grandfather appeared with his walking cane and proudly accompanied her onto the court.

“I know you do, Kay.”

She turned the laptop back around and hit submit.

Then she looked over at the stove.

“Is that hotdish?”

“It is,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “I’m starving.”

And the four of us ate supper together at that kitchen table. Same as always.

Except nobody was waiting for anybody to fix anything.

And nobody had to ask.