At The Signing Of My First House, No One Congratulated Me

on the tray beside her. Her hair was white and thin, but her eyes—when she looked up at me—were sharp.

“You look like Diane,” she said. Then she squinted. “But you’ve got my nose.”

I laughed. It came out broken and wet. “I’m Marshall. Your grandson.”

She stared at me for a long time. “They told me you didn’t want to visit. They said you were too busy.continue reading …