Skipping Stones

“You can’t skip stones to save your life,” I said teasingly, elbowing Luke as yet another stone plopped into the calm river. “I keep sacrificing all of my best skipping stones for you, and you keep wasting them.”

“I’m hurt!” he said, holding a hand over his chest, his eyes smiling, turning into little crescent moons. The stream gurgled like a newborn child, the sun streaming through the sheltering arms of the trees like our fathers. The wind caressed my face like my mother once did, and the gr...