When my son found a filthy, one-eyed teddy bear half-buried in the grass, I didn’t want him to bring it home. It was torn, stained, and missing stuffing in places that made it look like it had already been forgotten. But Mark wouldn’t let go. He held it like it was something alive, something that still mattered in a way I didn’t understand yet.
We’d been taking Sunday walks for two years, ever since my wife died. No matter how tired I was or how much work I had waiting, we went. Just the two of us. Mark needed it, and honestly, so did I. He’s a gentle kid in a world that doesn’t always reward gentleness. Since his mom passed, he startles easily, asks questions I can’t answer, and sometimes looks at me like I might disappear too.....
