Five years later…

“On nights like this, I always think of my dad.” I look down at my son, Chuck, named after my father, sitting on a stump beside me as we watch the treetops blow above us from the back of my pickup truck parked at the ridge.

“You came here with him a lot?”

“He took me here,” I smile, ruffling his hair. “Now I take you here.”

“Mom says you guys met here.”

“That’s kind of true, yes.”

“Was she watching the trees too?”

“Yes, she was.” I smile as I stand. “Come on, let’s get back and see her before you have to go to bed.”...