This is the second time I see you and you are no longer a little boy. You're much taller, your hair, you've let grow. You are a young man with a crown of cornrows. We meet in the city, with your dad, at a sidewalk cafe. You walk away from my view. Maybe to pick up our drinks. Your dad speaks to me this time. He's no longer the brooding man on the couch. Y our dads much older since I last saw you. His eyes are droopy but they rise when he speaks of you and when he smiles. His freckles show more; on his nose bridge, on the high part of his cheeks. His dreds are thicker but the color is lighter, like brown, smoky, dusk. His glasses are the same thin metal frames from always. He t ells me how well you're doing. How well your both doing. How everything is well. I mention your grandmother- I heard about your mom. I reach out and place my hand over his- I'm really sorry. Your dad's bottom lip quivers and he gives me a nod. You come...