At My Father’s Ceremony They Said I Could Not Do Anything Right Until I Walked In And Smiled

“What?”

“Your mother’s azaleas. Evelyn said they looked raggedy and had them pulled out the spring after we married.” He exhaled. “I should have said something then.”

“You should have,” I agreed.

He did not wince at the directness, which told me the morning had softened something in him overnight. Or perhaps cleared it, the way cold air clears.

“The clippings,continue reading …