On The Night He Died My Husband Gave Me A Warning Until Months Later Everything Changed

before you breathed and after you stopped. You were not waste. You were not error. You were not a secret to be erased. You were my child.

That evening on Lorraine’s porch, as the sun lowered and the swamp took on its deep reflective stillness before night, I lifted my glass of sweet tea toward the darkening fields.

“To truth,” I said.

Lorraine touched continue reading …