My 17-year-old son shaved his head for his sick girlfriend – the next day, her mother said, “You need to come to the hospital and see what your son did.”

people I know.

He was holding open a plastic bag as if he were packing for a trip.

“They’re on the second shelf, where they always are,” I said. “Who eats four granola bars?”

“Lily likes the chocolate ones. The hospital food is awful,” Aaron said casually, the way other kids might mention a coffee run.

He was holding open a plastic bag.

I dried my hands continue reading …