My Son Brought

around to the driver’s side without looking back.

Inside the car, Caleb stared straight ahead.

His cheeks were red from the cold, but his eyes were dry.

That hurt me more than crying would have.

I started the engine.

For a full minute, neither of us spoke. The windshield wipers dragged snow across the glass. The dashboard clock glowed 6:43 p.m. Christmas continue reading …