Our family was flying on a Make-A-Wish trip for my sick son — halfway through the flight, the pilot said, “Mike, there’s one thing about this trip that you and your parents know nothing about.”

terminal, Stella had already stopped breathing normally.

I remember watching the doctor’s pen roll toward the edge of his desk.

It fell.

No one picked it up.

After that, our life became appointment cards, plastic wristbands, and food Mike was too nauseated to eat.

His cleats remained beside the back door. Mud dried in the grooves.

I could not bring myself continue reading …