by Bruce Meyer
Timothy was told he’d never known his father. He found that hard to believe. Sometimes he would dream of a man sitting beside him as he assembled cars and houses from plastic blocks that fit together. He was certain those dreams were memories.
Timothy decided to build his own father with Lego. He made the man tall, though multi-colored, and gave him a face that resembled his own so people would say, “You have your father’s eyes.”
The Lego man sat in the corner of Timothy’s room and didn’t speak or move though he was a good listener. He could tell him anything. Each night, he wished his father would become as real as the other dads.
Nothing seemed to have changed the morning Timothy realized he was late for school. Without looking, he darted into the intersection and felt a hand push him to the far curb as a truck screeched to a halt in a hail of Legos.
Timothy turned and stared in fright. The Lego Man had followed him out the door. He had saved Timothy but was now scattered in thousands of pieces in the intersection. Fighting back his tears, Timothy picked up as many blocks as he could but even if he cradled them in his jacket he left many behind.
The floor of Timothy’s room was covered in blocks and he stepped on them in his bare feet. The pain would not go away. When he cried, his mother said he had his father’s eyes.