“Oh, I got your letter,” he said. “I liked it. Thanks.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that and was trying to remember what I had written (as it’s been a several weeks) when he continued.
“I really liked it, because it reminded me of…”
Reminded him of what?
“…it reminded me of when you used to write me those think-plan-do-finish letters and send me those Lego-man postcards.”
I remember think-plan-do-finish, but I’d forgotten writing letters exhorting him to avoid the procrastinating ways of his father. And I’d completely forgotten the Lego-man postcards, although I can picture them now—hand-drawn, 3-D, Lego-like characters tinted with colored pencils.
I was smiling in the easy chair in the dark of early evening on the other side of the living room from Trudy. I tried to wipe my eye discretely so she wouldn’t see.
“Oh, Ben,” she said. “Your dad’s all weepy.”