My Granddaughter Asked Me to Stop Sending Her Father Money and to Follow Him

Saturdays at Riverside Park, Ivy and I still get ice cream. Chocolate chip for me, strawberry swirl for her, same bench, same old oak tree, same unhurried hour of sitting close and talking about everything and nothing. Last week she bumped my sleeve with her elbow and leaned in conspiratorially, the same gesture she had used on that September afternoon continue reading …