It isn’t easy. It may never be easy. Some Sundays, Hannah gets off the phone with her and goes very quiet for an hour. Some days, I still remember that whisper in my ear, and I have to take a deep breath.
But it’s real. For the first time, it’s real.
The wedding was last October.Book Venues
This past May, on Mother’s Day, I went out to get the mail.
There was a card in the mailbox.
A pink envelope. Addressed to me in handwriting I knew better than my own. Not round and loopy. Not disguised. Just Hannah’s handwriting, the same handwriting that wrote “Mom” on my
place card at the reception.
No Tucson postmark. It came from Columbus.
I stood at the end of the driveway and opened it right there, the way a seven-year-old would.
On the front, there was a white rabbit.Browse Reference
