My Son Brought

It’ll be quieter.”

Tomorrow afternoon.

Not Christmas Eve.

Not when everyone was gathered.

Not when pictures would be taken.

Leftovers.

A quieter room where my son’s absence could be explained as scheduling.

I looked at Caleb.

His ears were red. Snow clung to his hair. His fingers were white around the handles of the gift bag.

“Mom,” I said, and my voice did continue reading …