I Got Home From the Oil Rig Two Weeks Early and Found My Eight-Year-Old Son Cooking Dinner for Strangers—The Messages He Never Sent Explained Everything.
But I brought Rig.
You can say hi to him.
He had brought the lizard along in a shoebox with holes in the lid.
They sat on the floor together for forty minutes, a woman who had done unforgivable things and a boy who was slowly learning how to decide for himself what forgiveness looked like.
It was the most generous thing I have ever seen anyone do.
I don’t know if Brandi and I will ever be friends.