On Christmas

our front door and taught Lily the code.

“Our door opens for you,” he told her. “Always.”

She tested it twelve times the first day.

Each time, the lock clicked open.

Each time, something in her face softened.

In therapy, Lily drew pictures of that Christmas.

At first, every drawing was gray.

Gray house.

Gray road.

Gray sky.

A tiny purple shape carrying a smaller continue reading …