I saw a homeless man wearing my son’s jacket, the one that had gone missing – and I decided to follow him.

at a small café to grab coffee before driving back.

I was standing at the counter, waiting for my order, when the door opened behind me.

An elderly man walked in.

He moved slowly, bundled up against the cold, counting coins in his palm. He looked like he might be homeless.

And he was wearing my son’s jacket.

Not a jacket that looked like Ethan’s.

Not the continue reading …