At 3 AM, My Daughter Texted

at me. “Patricia donated a bunch of the old kitchen stuff. The mismatched ones.”

The old kitchen stuff. My mug.

I said nothing. That’s the thing I do. I say nothing and I file it away. Forty years of saying nothing builds up like plaque. You don’t notice until something cracks.

The guest room went next. The room they’d told me, when I bought the place,continue reading …