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“No； I …” He studied me for a moment； then said； “I'm going to visit David。”
“Uncle David？”
He walked toward his truck； saying； “That's right。 I …I should be back around noon。”
“But Dad； why today？ It's Sunday。”
“I know； sweetheart； but it's a special Sunday。”
I turned off the spigot。 “Why's that？”
“It's his fortieth birthday。 I want to see him and deliver a gift；” he said as he held up the paper
bag。 “Don't worry。 I'll rustle us up some pancakes for
lunch； all right？”
“I'm ing with you；” I said； and tossed the hose aside。 I wasn't even really dressed—I'd
just pulled on some sweats and sneakers； no socks—
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but in my mind there was no doubt。 I was going。
“Why don't you stay home and enjoy the morning with your mother？ I'm sure she would—”
I went over to the passenger side of his truck and said； “I'm ing；” then climbed inside and
slammed the door back in place。
“But—” he said through the driver's door。
“I'm ing； Dad。”
He studied me a moment； then said； “Okay；” and put the bag on the bench seat。 “Let me
leave a note for your mother。”
While he was inside； I strapped on the lap belt and told myself that this was good。 This was
something I should've done years ago。 Uncle David
was part of the family； part of my father； part of me。 It was about time I got to know him。
I studied the paper sack sitting next t
