that he found a way to stay.”
I had nothing better to offer than the truth.
“Me too.”
So that is the story behind the envelopes.
For twelve years, I believed an anonymous person was reaching into my son’s life.
I wondered if it was guilt.
Regret.
Some shadow from the past trying to purchase sentiment a few dollars at a time.
I was wrong.
It was love.
Patient love.
Disciplined love.
Quiet love.
The kind that does not need applause.
The kind that keeps a promise for years without
