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

like a gift from myself to myself. My bag was still zipped on the floor beside the bed.

I picked it up.

The zipper tab was cold against my fingers.

In the mirror over the dresser, I saw my own face. Calm. Too calm, maybe. But not empty. Something was there that had not been there before. A line had been crossed, and behind it I could see a road.

Downstairs,continue reading …