For 25 Christmases, The Same Silent Stranger Appeared Outside Our House At Exactly The Same Time. He Never Spoke, Never Left A Note, And Every Year My Parents Called The Police In Panic. When I Turned 15, I Finally Stepped Outside And Asked, “Why Do You Keep Coming Back?” He Looked Straight At Me… And Burst Into Tears.

me at every age taken from a distance through windows and across streets. A scrapbook of newspaper clippings. Every article about me, from high school sports to my architecture firm’s projects. A drawer full of birthday cards he had written but never sent, one for every year of my life.

I read them all. Thirty-five cards. Thirty-five years of love I continue reading …