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TEARS IN MY ALGABEER
Emmie’s absence grabbed me hard. We’d been so good together….
But when I went and climbed on my trike and fired it up, it was with a sense of pur-pose. I pulled evenly into daytime traffic, without a hitch.
* * * *
Mama doesn’t care much for Algie. Says he has “Chicago manners.” I suppose he does. I don’t know what her real beef is, but she lives two counties over so I don’t have to see them at the same time much.
Daddy, however, would’ve liked Algie. A lot. They would’ve been buddies. Daddy would have held his elbow in his big paw and whispered in Algie’s ear, telling him embar-rassing stories from my boyhood. And as Algie tried hopelessly not to laugh, Daddy would have winked at me, which would have been his way of saying He’s my son too. I’m that sure they
