A few weeks later, Lucas asked his father to meet him at the neighborhood basketball court.
I watched from a nearby bench.
Lucas missed his first shot. Derek retrieved the ball and passed it back.
The second shot missed, too.
On the third attempt, Lucas hit the rim.
He laughed.
Derek smiled, but he didn’t rush to tell him what he should do differently.
After a while, Lucas stopped dribbling.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Do you think I should stop talking when I get nervous?”
Derek held the ball against his side.
“No. I think I should get better at listening.”
Lucas studied him.
“Even when I st-stutter?”
“Especially then. You don’t have to rush for anyone.”
My son looked down at his shoes.
“Even when I’m angry?”
Derek took a breath.
“Even then. I might not always agree with you, but I should hear you out. And I shouldn’t make decisions about you without listening to you.”
