The Legacy of James Woods BY ANTHONY CHILES
B
rian puts his hand on the sun bleached wood gate that leads to the front yard of his childhood home. He looks at the house and realizes it was ten years to the day that he left for Chicago and he hadn’t been back since. On the day of his departure, Brian’s father, James, told him to not wreck the car. That was it. No mention of being proud of him for successfully graduating from college. No acknowledgment of him leaving to start a life of his own. No I love you. Just a demand to not wreck the car. And on that day, Brian resolved to not look back. He held onto that resolve for years despite his mother’s desperate attempts through phone calls and texts and emails to connect him with his father. A month ago, his resolve wavered. His fiancée informed him that she was pregnant and Brian considered reaching out to his dad. He wanted to know what to expect as a father. He wanted to know if his dad was ever proud of him. He wanted to ask his father why he never heard him say the words, ‘I love you’. That was until his mom called a week ago, and his opportunity for reconciliation evaporated. A cold breeze brings Brian back to the present and he releases his grip on the gate. The emotional drain of the service and burial left him empty and the thought of talking to anyone else felt overwhelming. He decides he’ll check in on his mom tomorrow. As he walks away, he notices the handprint he left on the sidewalk as a child. He remembers at the time being scared that it would get stuck and laughs at his younger self. He thinks of his first child on the way and looks forward to doing something similar together.
Ultimate
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