He had gone quietly, with Margaret holding his hand. In Walter’s will, there was a letter for Jonah: “Some corners are the wrong corners and some boys cross the street anyway. Be that boy for as long as you can. ”
Jonah Reeves is thirty-four now.
He is a social worker in Milbrook. He drives an old blue sedan with a tartan blanket folded across the rear bench. And on rainy Thursdays in March, he drives slowly down Beacon Street with his eyes open.
Some habits, once you start them, are the kind you keep.