“That Bank Closed in the ’80s,” My Father Scoffed—The Account Was Very Much Still There

come back anytime, Declan. This old man gets lonely sometimes.” So I came back, the next Sunday and every Sunday after that for twelve years without fail.

We had rituals, Grandpa and I. I’d bring donuts from the bakery on Fifth Street, the same one that had been there since he was young. He’d make lemonade from scratch, his mother’s recipe. We’d sit continue reading …