When George walks out on Mom a few months later, I dust off my hands and say to myself with relief and gladness “Well, that’s that. It’s finally over. Our family can get back to normal now. ” But then I sense how sad Mom is. I can’t stand it. I decide to help her.
All I have to do is convince George to come back. It will be easy. And who knows, I might even be my Mom’s hero. I sit down at my desk, pull out a sharp pencil, a sheet of notebook paper, and write:
Dear George,
My Dad doesn’t believe there’s a God. He says science doesn’t have any real proof. Mom says that’s why they call it believing, because you’re never going to have any real proof. But I think there is real proof—the proof is in people who have families they can count on. The proof is in people who love each other. And I think there’s a million other ways that proof of God might be seen. Like when two people decide to come together to fix what’s broken.
I think that God made human hands fit together because we’re meant to hold on to each other. If we were to speak with God, that would be just what me and Toni and Grandma and Mom would ask him for. Please come back.
Sincerely,
Jenna
I don’t know if my letter is the reason that George comes back. He never mentions it. He just shows up one day after work like he never disappeared. And he and Mom get along okay that way. Except when they don’t. And when they don’t get along, Mom says we kids have to try harder, do better, be more. And just so we don’t forget, she’s made some reminders, handwritten messages in blue ink on torn squares of lined paper, scotch taped on select places around the house.
“Do not leave this cupboard door open or George will bump his head”
“This TV remote control is for George only.”
