My father stood up at the lake house dinner and raised his glass in fr…

on the couch after swimming. Me washing dishes because there were always dishes, always towels, always something needing to be done.

I had loved that house.

And I had been uncounted inside it.

Both things were true.

I signed.

Sylvia collected the pages and slid them into a folder.

“That’s everything,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She extended her hand. I shook it.continue reading …