Chasing Fireflies

by Charles Martin

So I wrote this letter to tell you that tonight, I’m going to sleep, and I’m done looking down the driveway.

I’ve never seen Unc mad. It’s like all the bad stuff that happened to him poured into one side of his heart and fell out the other, flowing through the hole left by the death of his wife and son.

Everything in me hurt, but every time his teeth ground together, I knew that my pain didn’t compare with his.

I make a living with words, but sometimes words can’t say what needs saying. Sketch taught me that.