Then at Justin.
Nothing.
Dorothy looked toward the gardening tools beside him.
For the first time, Justin looked like a kid who had arrived to help and found nothing he could fix.
I saw my son’s face change.
Dorothy looked toward the gardening tools beside him.
Her expression shifted.
“You’re the lawn boy.”
Dorothy studied him.
Justin immediately smiled.
“Justin.”
Dorothy studied him.
Then nodded.
“Right. Justin.”
Her fingers brushed the rosemary.
He pointed beneath her window.
“I brought part of your yard.”
She walked over slowly.
Her fingers brushed the rosemary.
She pinched one leaf, rubbed it between her fingers, and smelled it.
Justin looked down quickly, but not before I saw his eyes brim with tears.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dorothy smiled.
“Smells like home.”
Justin looked down quickly, but not before I saw his eyes brim with tears.
A couple of weeks later, the night before school started, I found Justin’s work gloves beside the garage door.
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