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When my son found a filthy, one-eyed teddy bear half-buried in the grass, I didn’t want to take it home, but my son wouldn’t let go. That night, when I brushed its belly as he slept, something inside clicked, and a trembling voice whispered his name, begging for help.
Every Sunday, my son, Mark, and I would take a walk together.
No matter how tired I was, no matter how much paperwork waited on my desk or how many emails sat unanswered, we walked.
Just the two of us.
Mark needed it. Heck, I needed it too.
He’s a bright kid. Gentle in ways that scare me sometimes because the world isn’t gentle back.
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