right now, but it has to stay in the family.”
I folded it carefully.
The yellow sun was faded.
Always crooked. Always there.
It’s been six months now.
Nora calls twice a week.
Sometimes more.
Michael comes once a month.
I’m probably sending too many text messages, but she hasn’t complained yet.
She enrolled in two courses.
She still works at the cafe.
She still sees Elaine.
And she still has difficult days.
Us too.
There is no scenario where those eight years disappear just because we hugged in a back room and cried.
We missed too many things.
She has survived too much.
But last week, Nora called me after class.
She was laughing.
She told me, “Mom, I think I completely failed this test.”
I laughed too.
“So, welcome back to normal life.”
She fell silent.
Then she said, “I like normality.”
Me too.
For years, I believed
