Five Years Later.
Sitting here on the back porch with Lyla, watching all but one of our children run with their fathers as they helped the teenage boy Brayden and his three younger siblings gather chickens and goats. There were a lot of laughter and squeals. Matthew stood at the side watching it all. His serious face taking everything in. He took three steps forward and snatched a chicken by its neck and put it under his skinny arms. The chicken immediately calmed. Matthew walked to the makeshift chicken coop and put the bird inside. Then he stood still and watched again, before a chicken got close, and he snatched that one up.
“He’s a smart one,” Holly said, coming out of the house with a tray of cheese, crackers and salami, and three glasses of sweet tea.
“He’s different,” I said
