stood on the sidewalk with hard hats in our hands and watched crews move steel into place.
Tyler said, very softly, ‘Dad would have loved that you did this in your blue dress.’
I laughed then, the first easy laugh either of us had managed in months.
The dress still hangs in my closet.
It is plain.
It is department-store blue.
The hem is slightly scuffed from that terrace.
To the Walsh family, it marked me as a mistake.
They were wrong.
It was the dress I wore the day my son heard the truth in time.
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