I understood. He wasn’t asking for a hug or a high-five or any of the usual languages of affection. He was offering me a single, precise gesture. I know you’re here. I’m glad you’re here. I don’t have the words, so take my hand if you want to.
“He’s your brother,” my father said once, catching me glaring at Liam as he rocked back and forth on the couch, his own small universe contained within his skin. Beautiful Boy
We sat in silence for a long time. A bee bumbled between the clover. Somewhere a dog barked twice and then gave up. I pulled blades of grass and let them fall, one by one. I understood
And I take it.