I was too old for this and we both knew it. But my father didn’t scold me. He rolled the chair back from the oak desk and pulled me onto his knee. He ruffled my curls and kissed the top of my head, his lips saying, “Shh.” I was too old for this, too. I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder and let my crying wash through me, staring blankly at the screen as he typed in search terms. I wish I’d paid more attention then to what he was searching for.
