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.
Miguel asked if I was planning to go back offshore.
“Not right now,” I said.
He looked at the boy through the window and nodded.
“That’s a good reason.”
I expected him to give me advice about money or work.
Instead Miguel told me about missing his daughter’s school play the year his own father got sick.
He still remembered the empty seat she had saved for him.
“I bought her a bigger bike that Christmas,” he said.