The next time came on a Saturday morning in early spring.
Nathan’s maple tree had begun to bud. The air smelled damp and new, and Lily opened the front door before I knocked.
“You’re late,” she said.
I checked my watch. “I’m three minutes early.”
She considered this. “Then Uncle Nathan is late with pancakes.”
From the kitchen, Nathan called, “I heard that.”
Owen appeared behind Lily wearing a shirt backward and one sock. “Captain says come in.”
I stepped inside.
Nathan’s house was not quiet now.
There were crayons on the table, tiny shoes by the door, a drawing taped crookedly to the refrigerator, and a list in Lily’s careful handwriting that read:
HOUSE RULES
1. No lying.
2. Captain can sit at breakfast.
3. If someone spills, get napkins.
4. Nobody leaves without saying goodbye.
5. Pancakes on Saturdays maybe.
I stared at number four longer than the others.
Nathan noticed.
“She wrote it,” he said quietly.
Lily heard him. “It’s a good rule.”
“It’s the best rule in the house,” I said.
She smiled.
We ate pancakes with blueberries on top.
Nathan burned the first batch and tried to hide them under a towel. Owen discovered them and declared they looked like “sad moons.” Lily insisted they should still be respected, so Nathan placed them on a separate plate and called it a memorial.
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