My father is traveling again, and my mother is sewing his shirts while a game show blares on TV. I stand by her chair, sifting through the jar of buttons. “Did you need something?” she asks.
Tag: julie marie wade
Only Child by Julie Marie Wade
A pretty, polka-dot envelope comes for me in the mail. My mother says I am too young for secret admirers, so we open the letter together. “It’s an invitation,” she smiles.