My Nephew Smashed My $8,000 Gibson Guitar. My Family Said “Forgive Him.” So I Taught Them What Accountability Really Costs.
Labor Day morning at my parents’ lakehouse always had the same rhythm. The house sat back from the water on a gentle rise, cedar siding silvered by years of sun and storms. The screened porch smelled like charcoal and citronella and the faint sweetness of lake air, a damp, green smell that clung to your…