I dropped beside my son so fast my knees hit the grass hard enough to sting. His face looked strangely peaceful, which terrified me more than if he had been crying

As the party wound down and the guests began to leave, I stood on the back porch, watching the glowing embers of the fire pit dance in the night air. The cool evening breeze carried the distant sound of crickets and the gentle chatter of my brother and niece cleaning up the kitchen inside.

My son walked out onto the porch, holding a mug of hot cocoa, and leaned against my side.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

He looked up at me with wise, clear eyes. “I was just thinking about how lucky we are.”

I smiled, resting my chin on top of his head. “You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Do you think bad things can still happen?” he asked quietly, a touch of lingering childhood curiosity in his voice.

“Bad things happen sometimes, buddy,” I answered honestly, tightening my grip around him. “That’s life. But the important thing isn't what happens to us—it’s who we have standing beside us when it does. As long as we stick together, there is nothing we can't get through.”