I was already opening the hall closet, pulling out my old suitcase.
That evening I folded my cardigans carefully and wrapped two small gifts in tissue paper.
« I’ll pack tonight, »
A wooden puzzle for Noah.
A book of fairy tales for Lily.
I tucked the jam jars between my sweaters so they wouldn’t break.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment and I let myself feel the truth I rarely said aloud.
Since my husband died, I had drifted to the edges of this family.
I let myself feel the truth I rarely said aloud.
Holidays where I sat quietly in the corner.
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