I laughed.
“The Porsche?”
“Obviously.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Please drive sensibly.”
I smiled.
“Always.”
She looked at me.
For a moment, she seemed about to say something serious.
Then she glanced toward the garage.
“I'm glad everything finally settled down.”
I nodded.
“Me too.”
She hesitated.
Then added, “You seem happier.”
I thought about that.
Then smiled.
“I think I am.”
Hannah nodded.
“Good.”
She hugged Eli.
Wished him a happy birthday.
Then drove away.
My son turned toward me.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go?”
I laughed.
“You haven't even had breakfast.”
He looked offended.
“I brought a granola bar.”
I shook my head.
“Come inside.”
We ate pancakes.
Then I handed him a small wrapped box.
He opened it.
Inside was a keychain with a miniature silver Porsche attached.
Eli stared.
Then grinned.
“Dad!”
I smiled.
“Thought you might like it.”
He held it up.
“Does this mean I get to drive?”
I laughed.
“When you're old enough, properly licensed, and ready.”
He sighed dramatically.
“So basically never.”
I laughed harder.
Then stood.
“Come on.”
We walked into the garage.
The silver Porsche sat beneath the lights.
Clean.
Polished.
Exactly where it belonged.
Eli ran his hand carefully along the roof.
Then looked toward me.
“Can we take the mountain road?”
I nodded.
“The scenic route. With a stop for ice cream.”
He grinned.
“Perfect.”
We climbed inside.
I started the engine.
The familiar sound filled the garage.
For a moment, I thought about my father.
The garage where I grew up.
The first Porsche I'd seen.
And the conversation in his hospital room.
Don't spend forever asking permission to be happy.
I looked toward Eli.
He was fastening his seat belt.
Then he glanced at me.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Grandpa would've liked this car?”
I smiled.
“Absolutely.”
Eli looked toward the dashboard.
Then whispered, “I wish I could've shown it to him.”
My throat tightened.
I nodded.
“Me too.”
For several seconds, we sat quietly.
Then I looked toward the photograph tucked inside the garage cabinet.
Dad standing beside a restored engine.
Smiling.
His hands covered in grease.
I took a breath.
“You know, your grandfather taught me something important.”
Eli looked up.
“What?”
“That owning something nice doesn't make you better than anybody else.”
He nodded.
I continued.