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Back and forth we go with our silent “I love you’s,” and I notice he is quietly counting to make sure he gets his right. “One, two, three,” he whispers. “One, two, three.”

If heaven proves to be no more than this, I will have no complaints.

One dark morning not long after learning the code one of the youngest makes his way to me bed and nestles into me. He gently squeezes my arm three times. Eyes closed and dozing, I reciprocate. He does it again, and so do I.

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