My Thirteen-Year-Old Son Sold His Guitar to Help a Classmate. The Police Visit the Next Morning Revealed What Really Happened.

“But the room is open if you miss it.”

He came home carrying the guitar case and an expression I could not read.

“Was it okay?”

“Kind of.

I kept thinking about Autumn’s chair.

Then I remembered music doesn’t fix that.”

“No,” I agreed.

“But you don’t have to stop doing something you love because a friend is having a hard time.”