My Son Walked Into My New Home Before I Ever Gave Him the Address

I took my hands off the wheel.

No rushing in.

No softening.

No chance to corner me in my own kitchen five years from now and talk me into “what makes sense.”

Everything would go through paper. Through records. Through someone who did not care that he was my boy once and still had the cowlick at the back of his head.

Matthew read the page again.

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