The Mother I Was Told To Forget Was My Boss For 18 Months

of them, some unopened, some dated years apart. Every one was addressed to me. My hands shook as I opened the first one. Margaret had written about my birthday, my first day of school, the things she imagined I might like, and how she hoped I was safe. I looked at my father and realized that he hadn’t merely hidden photographs. He had hidden an entire continue reading …