Everett Anderson’s Goodbye

Everett Anderson holds the hand of his mama until he falls asleep and dreams about Daddy in his chair, and
at the park, and everywhere. Daddy always laughing or never, just Daddy, Daddy, forever and ever.
“I don’t love Baby Evelyn and I don’t love Mr. Perry, too, and I don’t love Christmas or Santa Claus and I don’t love candy and I don’t love you!”
“Well, Everett,” his mama sighs, “who do you love?”
And he cries and cries.
“I promise to learn my nine times nine and never sleep late or gobble my bread if I can see Daddy walking, and talking, and waving his hand, and turning his head.
“I will do everything you say if Daddy can be alive today.”
Everett Anderson tries to sleep but it is too hard and the hurt is too deep.
Everett Anderson likes his food but how can a dinner
do any good?
Everett Anderson just sits staring, wondering what’s the use of caring.