She Sat Me by the Kitchen at My Son’s Wedding — So I Burned It All Down With One Phone Call

falling apart.

A patch of peeling paint behind a red fire extinguisher.

A water stain that looked vaguely like a map of Italy.

A nail hole where something had once hung and been removed.

I stared at that spot so hard I thought I’d burn a hole through the drywall with sheer force of will.

That spot became my anchor, my focal point, the only thing keeping continue reading …