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.
He says it looks awesome.
He tells people a shark bit him.
The first night it was only the two of us in the house, he crawled into my bed with his new lizard and my old phone.
“Can I keep writing to you?” he asked.
“You don’t need to anymore, buddy.
I’m right here with you.”
He thought it over.
“I want to,” he said.