Mom glanced toward Walt.
Her face softened.
“That was a long time ago.”
Michael shook his head.
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“But I didn’t know.”
She looked at him.
“You were just a child.”
He nodded.
Then said something I hadn’t expected.
“I don’t remember being hungry as much as I remember Dad telling me things would be okay.”
Walt looked down at his coffee.
Michael continued.
“I guess that’s because people like you helped him keep that promise.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
Michael took a breath.
“I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking success meant getting far away from the kind of work my father did.”
He looked toward Walt.
“Or the kind of work you do.”
Then he swallowed.
“And somewhere along the way, I started treating people who work hard with their hands like they were less important.”
My mother stood quietly.
