I buried my son ten years ago – when I saw my new neighbors’ boy, I was certain he looked exactly like mine would have if he were still alive today.

doorway.

“I’ll bake something to welcome them to the neighborhood,” I said.

It was more habit than enthusiasm.

That afternoon, I made an apple pie. I waited until it had cooled just enough not to burn someone, and then I carried it across the lawn with both hands.

“Looks like we’ve got neighbors again.”

I knocked on the front door.

It opened almost immediately.continue reading …