He had no answer.
I picked up the photograph from the wooden box.
Paul and I were standing on the front porch, smiling beside a small wooden sign he’d made after we paid off the mortgage.
We looked older than I remembered, but happy.
“Do you know why your father insisted on paying this house off early?” I asked Daniel.
He nodded uncertainly.
“So we wouldn’t have a mortgage.”
“That was part of it.”
I ran my thumb along the photograph’s edge.
“Your father worked extra shifts for years. Sometimes he came home so tired he fell asleep before dinner.”
Daniel looked down.
“He used to tell me that if anything happened to him, at least I’d have somewhere safe to live. Somewhere nobody could force me to leave.”
My son remained silent.
“And today I came home to find his picture in the garage and my replacement hanging above the fireplace.”
