My parents hadn’t been perfect.
Neither had Gabriel.
And neither had I.
But after so many years of grief and misunderstanding, we were finally learning to see one another clearly.
When I was eight, I thought Gabriel had taken something precious from me.
Years later, I discovered that he had been protecting one of the last gifts my father ever left behind.
Y mientras estábamos sentados juntos
disfrutando del pastel de manzana, me di cuenta de algo que mi madre había intentado enseñarme hacía