Goodnight, Bum

After my daughter died and my wife left me, I missed a lot of things I had taken for granted.
The thing I missed most of all was reading bedtime stories.
I knew the stories by heart, we all do. But there’s something special about opening a book and reading aloud.
It’s not just the pictures. It’s something about that book. Holding it up while you’re sitting at the foot of the bed, nightlight’s on, covers pulled up.
Now, I go out into the city’s alleys and read bedtime stories to the homeless.
It’s not the same. Certainly smells worse.