Morning broke in a hip hop dance as if straight out of a John Hughes script. Sixteen Candles. Breakfast Club. Take your pick. Up at 1:30 am and then intervals after, I slipped between teenage boys coming and going, and dreams. Max and the boys woke early and by the time I finally rolled out of bed, breakfast was over and the mad rush to the rink, Max off to hockey. Sunlight streamed into the living room casting silhouettes on the wall. It moved at light speed, looking up into the past.
