so long, they had to assume our son had died.
Karen cried until she couldn’t breathe.
I just sat there.
The search lasted for months.
Life continued.
Karen and I never had other children. We talked about it, but I think we believed losing another child would destroy us completely.
So instead, I buried myself in work.
I owned a small hardware and supply store just outside of town. Keeping it running gave me something to focus on, which made the days move forward.
Fifteen years passed in that way.
I buried myself in work.
Then, one afternoon, something strange happened.
I’d been sitting in the office flipping through resumes for a janitor position. The store needed someone dependable.
Most of the applications looked the same: short job histories, a few references, nothing memorable.
Then I reached one that made me stop.
The name at the top read “Barry.”
