letter from my grandparents.
All the things my family never respected until they became impossible to ignore.
‘No,’ I said after a moment. ‘My grandparents did well.’
Samuel’s mouth softened at the corner. ‘That too.’
After he left, I stayed on the porch alone.
The mist had burned off. The ocean lay silver-blue beyond the bluff. Wind moved through the rose bushes with a low, whispering sound. Somewhere in the house, the old clock in the hallway chimed the hour.
I thought about the girl who used to come here on weekends and sit at the kitchen table trying not to ask for too much. I thought about the graduate standing in an empty row of seats while other people’s parents cheered. I thought about how long it had taken me to understand that love offered conditionally is not love at all.
Then I stepped back inside and closed the door.
Not like someone hiding.
Like someone finally home.
