From This Day Forward
By Addison Albright
Christine Granger answered the door, exclaimed, “Henry!” and enveloped me in a huge mama-bear hug. Then she burst into tears. I patted her back, and as much as I appreciated the sentiment, I hoped the whole afternoon wouldn’t be a chain reaction of this behavior. But considering Christine was the wife of my old department chairman, and I’d seen her only a handful of times each year, that was probably an optimistic expectation.
Sam held Buddy—or I should say Aiden. The almost-six-year-old had decided he wanted to use his “real” name after all. Although his upbringing thus far had been decidedly primitive, he was intelligent and quickly picked up on what would be considered typical behavior back here in civilized society. Apparently, he wanted to
