man who could not bring himself to send a letter.
Margaret handed me a small envelope.
“My father wanted this to go to Thomas,” she said. “He wrote it shortly before he died.”
Inside was a note addressed to my grandfather.
I don’t know whether you still remember the summer we spent repairing the old fence. I remember it clearly. We worked until sunset, argued about everything, and ate sandwiches on the ground because neither of us wanted to go inside.
I have been angry with you for a long
