For a little while, Forrest’s family had felt like a tower of blocks built by a shaky hand—wobbly and uncertain. But lately, someone with steady hands was helping to build it back up again, block by block. That someone was his mom. Her smile, which had been hiding for a long time, was starting to feel like the sun coming out after a big, loud storm.

On Saturday, the first block was laughter. Forrest and his older brother, Ian, played Pie Face in the kitchen. They cranked the handles, their eyes wide with suspense, until—SPLAT! A cloud of whipped cream covered Ian's face. Forrest roared with laughter, a big, booming sound that filled the whole room.

The best part wasn’t the whipped cream, but the sound that joined Ian’s. It was Mom, leaning in the doorway, laughing a real, happy laugh. It was a sound Forrest had missed, like a favorite song he’d forgotten the words to. The whole kitchen felt warm and full of light.

The next day was Sunday, and it felt new. Forrest walked down the sidewalk into church, with his mom on one side and his Papaw Shawn on the other. It felt like he was the safest bridge in the world, connecting two strong pillars. He was going to Sunday school for the very first time.

Inside, the room was filled with sunshine and songs. Forrest listened to stories about kindness and hope and played silent catch with his friends. He felt a quiet, steady feeling settle in his chest. It was the feeling of being exactly where he was supposed to be.