On Monday morning, Papa had emergency eye surgery. By Thursday, the doctors say he is doing well — but the word emergency has been sitting in the Jones household all week like a guest nobody invited. The older children are quiet in their own ways, careful with their words and their footsteps, carrying a worry they don’t quite have language for yet. And then Papa comes to stay for a few days while he recovers — and Andy, who is two years old and has no framework for emergency or surgery or careful, walks straight up to Papa, places his red ball in Papa’s hands, says “ba,” and climbs up beside him like nothing in the world has changed. Because for Andy, nothing has. Papa is Papa. And that turns out to be the most important thing anyone says all week.