It was a Sunday afternoon in the fall of 1995, and the boys were in the backyard. I remember standing at the kitchen window watching them, neither of them knowing I was there. They were doing nothing in particular, just being boys, tossing a ball back and forth in the long afternoon light.

I had just come home from a long shift. I was tired in the way that medicine makes you tired, not just in the body but somewhere deeper. And then I looked out that window and everything recalibrated.

I have thought about that moment many times since. It was ordinary in every way. Nothing happened. No one said anything worth remembering. But I have never forgotten it. Some moments do not announce themselves. They just stay with you.

That is what this page is for.