I gave my son a silver angel I’d saved for 35 years. He didn’t even look at it. His wife had convinced him I was losing my mind, and she had papers for me to sign that would take away everything….
I pressed the small silver angel into my palm, the one I’d bought thirty-five years ago when Wesley was born. The metal was warm from my skin, worn smooth from decades of handling, of hoping, of waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. I’d carried it through every move, every hard winter, every … Read more