Daniel asked why a loan.
“Because you need to know,” I said, “what it feels like to owe somebody. And to have them be patient with you.”
I gave the rest away.
Most of it, anyway.
To the Alzheimer’s Association. In honor of Renee’s mother.
To Catalina High School. To build a new woodshop. In Harold’s name. The Harold Briggs Workshop. With a sign over the door. Wood-burned. By the students.
EVERY SHOP NEEDS A BENCH FOR THE SECOND TRY.
And to something else.
In June, I bought another house.
On Linden Street. In Tucson.
My house. The little two-bedroom with the carport and the porch.
The couple who bought it from me had moved to Denver. They were renting it out. To college students. It was a mess.
I bought it back.
Tomás drove down to Tucson with me. He restored it. The same way. The floors. The cabinets.
