Standing barefoot in the rain while strangers carried our furniture onto the lawn.
We didn’t sell that house.
We lost it.
That was the story I grew up with, anyway.
Dad had missed too many mortgage payments. Ignored too many notices. Failed us.
At least, that’s what everyone silently allowed me to believe.
I still remember my younger brother Asher crying into a garbage bag full of school trophies while Mom stood frozen in the driveway with both hands covering her mouth.
“Where’s Dad?” Asher kept asking.
Dad stood on the porch staring at the wet floorboards like they held the answer to everything.
