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

decide,” she said, “I want you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“You’re not imagining it.”

After we hung up, I wrote that sentence on the notepad I kept outside for grocery lists and school reminders.

You’re not imagining it.

I drew a box around it.

On day eleven, a letter arrived.

It was written on my mother’s pale yellow stationery, the same kind she had used continue reading …