I said.
He tilted his head.
“Are you doing this?”
I laughed. “Doing what?”
He held up the card.
“These. Every year. Is this one of your weird mom things?”
“I am offended you think I have this level of consistency.”
He did not laugh immediately.
He looked back at the card.
Then quietly asked, “Could it be my dad?”
That hit harder.
Adrian’s father was not some tragic lost love.
He was not a man separated from us by circumstances.
He was someone who disappeared the moment responsibility stopped
