mother's house w

the funeral, a week sin

ze, the scent of her favorite lav

ife felt like

memory, a piece of h

ucked away behind a stack of

d box with a tarn

, but Mom was alwa

cret in a life of

about it when I was a te

mory, Sarah," she had said,

s a complex mix o

stand why some things

fat

red, the man whose name

, they said, who died

ng her to work two jobs, to constantly fight aga

that she was so fier

big fight we had, ju

ce academy clutched in my hand, m

es filled with a fear I di

y not," she had said,

rous. I already lost your father to a

ecret box, I felt

key in her jewelry

ded velvet, was a thick stack

it was more money than I

been saving

esc

esh

olve cut thr

n't for me to

s for

stone, to give her the final, dignified resting p

could atone for not

bedroom I had once shared with David, my fingers brushe

orn it in

elic from anothe

e gold band glinting d

n promises, of a love th

t into a cardboard box filled with other remnants of m

shut with a se

apter w

ack of old papers, something slip

emy application form

a fresh one I had gotten afterward, one

d out the

at my mother's q

ck for so long was gone, rep

f me following my father's

wasn

ar, or David's selfishnes

Mom," I whispered

I'm going to live a li

n and began to f