Dear Auntie,
Last night you came home for the first time in forever. Maybe ever.
The house felt empty with you in it. I'm sorry for the cracks in the floor, and the sharp objects embedded in them. No, they are not baby-shoe safe. Yes, the kids can have my room. I'm sorry, too, that there is a sink there instead of a bed, that the staircase in the middle leads to nowhere; and the windows let in no light, only fog. Have you seen my mother?
Dear Cousin,
I'm sorry that the baby broke your drum, and that the song it plays now doesn't sound like music. I think I hear your father coming. You can use my sister's room. She won't be home for a while, she said, and I believe her.
Hello, Uncle.
I suppose I should have expected you. I understand the house looks empty, but I'm not sure I have room for all these things you have collected. Did Grandma's house shrink down so small, so quickly? Have I seen your son?
No, have you?
About the Creator
J
I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil
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