My In-Laws Threw Me Into the Rain

handwriting.

For the lake house. When you’re ready to remember without bleeding.

I sat on the closet floor and cried.

Not the broken, breathless sobs from after the funeral.

Something softer.

Something that let go.

The lake house was in Vermont, a property Adrian had bought quietly before we married. We had gone there twice, both times in winter. It was continue reading …