In the past, during dark times involving his mother, Raven would close himself off. Insist on being alone. He’d sit on the back porch, like tonight, and I’d worry about him from the kitchen window, wondering if going to him was the right move or if I should let him be. One time—the last time—I chose option A. I went to him and before I could muster up an “are you okay?” he’d hopped up and hugged me tight. “I told you I wanted to be alone,” he’d said, his reprimand gobbled up by my sweatshirt. “I’ll always find you in the dark, Raven,” I’d said, wrapping my arms around his shaking shoulders.
...more
