Hannah was happy all afternoon. She laughed. She ran around. She ate three pieces of cake.
But every half hour or so, she disappeared.
The first time, I found her standing at the end of the driveway, looking down the street.
“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?”
“Waiting for the mailman.”
“The mailman already came today, honey. This morning.”
“Maybe he’ll come back.”
The second time, I found her sitting on the front steps with Mr. Hops in her lap, staring at the empty mailbox.
The third time, it was almost dark. All her friends had gone home. Mark was cleaning up the
backyard. And Hannah was standing at the mailbox with the little door open, looking inside it, even though she knew it was empty.
“Hannah,” I said softly. “What are you waiting for?”
She didn’t turn around.
“A card,” she said. “From my mom.”
My heart cracked right down the middle.
