Chapter 11

As I’m looking around, I notice little things that solidify this place in the here and now—a church bulletin tacked to the corkboard by the wall phone, a brand new coffee maker, a small stack of mail on the kitchen table. I leaf through the letters, nothing but bills, and for the first time wonder just what I thought I’d find here. The nostalgia is a given, but what are my parents like now? Would I know them? Would they recognize me? I should go, just turn around and drive back home, back to Timothy and the office and whatever life I’ve managed to create for myself in the time I’ve been away. I don’t want to see my parents as old people. I don’t want to see my brother again.