Chester made it home around three on Saturday afternoon. It was good to see him, so healthy and happy. I was so proud of my boy. I hugged him for a long time, and he indulged me.
“How are you, Dad?” he asked when I finally let him go, albeit reluctantly.
“I’m fine, son. It’s just so good to see you. I miss you banging the doors in the house when you’re here.” I poked him in the side and he squawked, like always, trying to get away from me.
“Stop it, stop it!” he begged, laughing helplessly.
I relented and followed him upstairs to his room, carrying one of his suitcases.
“Are you staying here all summer, or hanging out with Dre mostly?” I knew the answer I wanted, but I probably wouldn’t get it. He had his own life now, and that was hard to take. Chester seemed to sense a little of my
