“I want to see where my letters went.”
I spent my whole life mailing letters to the address tied to my missing mother, always clinging to hope—until I finally received a reply that devastated me.
She has a daughter. My daughter has a daughter.
Tears clouded my vision and I put the notebook down.
She did not move toward me.
After a while I said, “I want to see the house.”
She looked up.
“The house with the address. I want to see where my letters went.”
Nate came in as we were leaving.
She nodded.
“All right.”
Nate came in as we were leaving.
“Do you want me to come?” he asked.
I looked at her, then back at him.
