Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Dad, look at this."

Timothy took the phone from Henry and glanced at the video account. A brand- new movie trailer had just been uploaded.

He asked hoarsely, "Is this your mother's account?"

"Looks like it is."

A shadow crossed Timothy's eyes. "Have you seen these before?"

Tears welled in Henry's eyes. "Yeah... I have. Every night, Mom would play me stories from this account. I... I just never realized..."

A wave of guilt crashed over him. He'd never truly understood what his mother had done for him.

Because she couldn't speak, she couldn't read him bedtime stories like other moms. So she found another way-she made these videos, just for him. All this time, he'd thought she just found random cartoons online. He'd even complained to her face that all she did was play videos on her phone, that it didn't mean anything.

He'd begged Sheila to stay and tell him stories, even pushed his own mother aside for it.

Later, when he learned Sheila was popular and could animate stories-when his classmates envied him-he thought, wouldn't it be great if Sheila could be his mom instead?

But his real mother had always been able to make cartoons.

She could write her own stories, too.

tales she once told him alone were

like

all, in the arts-and-crafts contest, he'd cut out a picture of a lamb kneeling to

never dared admit she was his mother in

that have

hitched as he started

I was wrong... I'm... I'm so sorry

at him, sharper

had to admit what he'd

told Timothy everything that had happened when he'd been

the capital alone, even though she'd promised to celebrate

wanted to scold his son,

fault.

Henry understand, never guided him to notice the quiet ways his mother

I... I let Mom down." Henry's self-reproach was

to add to his pain. Henry was only a child. The real fault

Let's go find your mom.

the backseat. Timothy watched every video on the