One of My Triplet Sons Died Shortly After Birth — Then, on Their 18th Birthday, I Found a Gift Box on My Doorstep Labeled “Happy Birthday, Brothers.”
“You came here for me,” he said.
“I came here for a story I was given.”
“You can still come.
Just bring me along sometimes so the place knows I outgrew it.”
We left daisies, not yellow roses.
On the drive home he played a song I did not know.