The Porch Light on Maple Street

For eleven months, David Chen left the porch light on at his home in Portland, Oregon. His daughter Mei had walked out after a terrible argument, severing contact, ignoring every call. Friends told him to change the locks. His brother said, "She made her choice." But David couldn't do it.

He remembered teaching Mei to walk in that very hallway — his hands wrapped around her tiny fingers, her wobbly steps landing on his feet. He remembered lifting her to his chest when she stumbled on the driveway, pressing his cheek against her tear-streaked face. He had bent down a thousand times to tie her shoes, to wipe her chin, to meet her eyes.

Now she was gone, and something in his chest physically ached. "I can't just stop being her father," he told his brother. "I don't know how to do that."

So the light stayed on. Every single night.