“Yes.”
She laughed.
“Good.”
The photograph is imperfect.
Lily’s eyes are half closed.
Sophie is looking slightly away.
Mara is laughing.
I am not ready.
I love it.
For forty years, I thought closure meant discovering exactly what happened and finally being able to stop caring.
I was wrong.
The truth did not close anything.
It opened doors.
Some I wanted.
Some I wish had stayed shut.
But at least now they are my doors.
Nobody else decides which ones I am allowed to see.
Mara came back too late to restore the life we should have had.
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