I stand in the middle of the living room, our old living room, though it’s not quite right. The floral wallpaper, yes, I remember that, but it’s faded, shifting between pastel pinks and sepia tones, like an old photo. Mom’s laughter echoes, so close and yet so far away, coming from the kitchen—or was it the next room? Decades ago? Time’s funny like that here.

The air’s thick with the smell of Gra...