A Suitcase of Promises: How I Sold My Father’s Hope for Peace

soothe, move on.

And then I thought of my father’s letter.

Dignity.

Waiting.

I crouched slightly so I wasn’t towering over her.

“What’s home like?” I asked instead.

Her face softened. “Yellow curtains,” she said. “And a dog. A little dog that thinks he’s big.”

She smiled so wide it made my chest ache.

I didn’t tell her it wasn’t real.

I didn’t tell her it continue reading …