A letter from Papaw — Four in the morning. Couldn't sleep again.

Went out to the shed looking for the small wrench. Found Wendell's tackle box instead. Sat down on the floor with it.

Earl said something on the porch a while back I keep coming back to. He'd lost his daddy that spring. He said, "You know what nobody tells you. It ain't the daytime. The daytime you can fill. It's four in the morning when the refrigerator's the loudest thing in the house and there's nobody breathing in the next room. That's the part."

I didn't say anything. Hank was at the screen door. The coffee maker clicked before it brewed, the way it does.

My hands dropped the latch on that tackle box twice trying to open it.

Going back inside. It's getting light.

Love,