The fish do sometimes swim in opposite directions on the same lovely sea. The cards said: be compassionate and work hard. Work harder.

It rained all day and evening. The earrings were peacock-feather ocean pools. I peered down and imagined diving into them. We sat close to the wall and, at table’s end, two women with wide cups stared down at tiny plates.

She sent a card with a bird—“Of course I had to”—and a painting of three fish. I remembered that time she gave us two different pictures—yours in color and mine in black and white—and I so desperately wanted to switch them. Yet the truth of it was, I couldn’t begin to refashion what she already believed about me.

This year, though, I don’t want to switch anything. Even here, it’s all perfect.