PART 3   I stared at the hospital bracelet in the lunchbox until the letters of my own name blurred.

too quiet.”

I sat up in bed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“Yes. But don’t talk too much.”

I laughed.

“I’m definitely Mom’s daughter.”

He laughed too.

We stayed on the phone for forty minutes, mostly silent.

The next morning, he told me he had made coffee in his own kitchen.

His own kitchen.

I cried after we hung up.

Not because everything was perfect.continue reading …