My Son Brought

father handed Caleb a wrench.

Caleb took it.

Something in me ached.

Not forgiveness.

Not trust.

Just the grief of what could have been if adults had been better sooner.

When they finally noticed me, my father straightened.

“Alternator,” he said.

“So I heard.”

“I can tow it to Dan Miller’s shop.”

Caleb looked at me.

I looked at Caleb.

His choice.

He nodded.

“Thanks,continue reading …