I read it and cried quietly at the kitchen counter.

It was not perfect.

But there were no excuses and no accusations.

Tommy read the letter twice.

Then he asked whether his father could come over and help him finish the cardboard bridge.

I contacted Mark, and we arranged the visit for a Saturday afternoon.

They worked at the dining table for an hour.

Mark helped cut the wooden supports while Tommy chose colors and insisted the bridge needed a separate lane for bicycles.