“And God bless Papa in the Sky.” I finished my prayers, then snuggled beneath the covers.

My brother leaned in to kiss me good-night. My mother kissed me and tucked me in.

The wind blew the curtains gently. As she reached for the light switch, I asked, “Who is Papa in the sky?”

I call him Papa in the sky because he died before I was born. I see pictures of him around our house. He had a round, friendly face with a wide smile. His eyes smiled and they glistened through his eye glasses.

“He was your grandfather,” Mom told Jimmy and me.

“I have another grandpa?” I peeked over at my brother was glee.

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