My Son Brought

Every birthday where his card arrived late.

Every photograph where he was asked to stand on the edge.

Every time I had told him to be patient.

And then Caleb moved.

He bent down and set the bag on the porch beside my mother’s welcome mat.

The bag sagged slightly in the snow.

My mother looked startled. “Caleb—”

“Merry Christmas, Grandma,” he said.

His voice continue reading …