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Weekly Contest #317
“What did you receive?” my sister whispers to me as we enter the funeral home. We brush the snow off of our coats and hang them in the small cloakroom. Signs with the name “Darlington” direct us to the left. “I was in their kitchen. It’s funny, I was only there two or three times…it must have been 2005 I went back to. The summer before my senior year.”When she died, the shining tangle of memories and connections that surrounded my not-quite mother-in-law was released. As the threads were severed, each memory found its way home to the person ...
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