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“No; I …” He studied me for a moment; then said; “I'm going to visit David。”

“Uncle David?”

He walked toward his truck; saying; “That's right。 I …I should be back around noon。”

“But Dad; why today? It's Sunday。”

“I know; sweetheart; but it's a special Sunday。”

I turned off the spigot。 “Why's that?”

“It's his fortieth birthday。 I want to see him and deliver a gift;” he said as he held up the paper

bag。 “Don't worry。 I'll rustle us up some pancakes for

lunch; all right?”

“I'm ing with you;” I said; and tossed the hose aside。 I wasn't even really dressed—I'd

just pulled on some sweats and sneakers; no socks—

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but in my mind there was no doubt。 I was going。

“Why don't you stay home and enjoy the morning with your mother? I'm sure she would—”

I went over to the passenger side of his truck and said; “I'm ing;” then climbed inside and

slammed the door back in place。

“But—” he said through the driver's door。

“I'm ing; Dad。”

He studied me a moment; then said; “Okay;” and put the bag on the bench seat。 “Let me

leave a note for your mother。”

While he was inside; I strapped on the lap belt and told myself that this was good。 This was

something I should've done years ago。 Uncle David

was part of the family; part of my father; part of me。 It was about time I got to know him。

I studied the paper sack sitting next t

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