The Message From My Son That Forced An Impossible Choice – The Archivist

heard my own breathing and the distant hum of a car on the next street over. After twenty years of working, budgeting, and putting everybody else first, I finally had four walls and a roof with my name on the deed.

My name. Not mine and a husband’s. Not mine and my brother’s. Mine.

“Susan, where’s the extra ice?” Donna’s voice floated from the kitchen.continue reading …