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

there for another heartbeat, staring at this woman I used to share a bedroom with growing up. The woman who used to braid my hair while we watched Saturday morning cartoons. The woman who had held my hand at our mother’s funeral. I genuinely didn’t know who she was anymore. Maybe I never really had.

My phone was already in my hand. “What shelter did continue reading …