My Son Brought

on his shoe. He stood beside me with one arm around my shoulders, smiling wide.

I had not known he printed it.

Under the frame, he had written in small black letters:

Home is who stays.

I cried.

He pretended not to see, which was his gift to me.

Around noon, my phone began buzzing again.

This time, I read the messages.

My mother’s first text was sent at 7:continue reading …