He Changed the Locks on My Parents’ Anniversary Gift

spots.

I stood there reading it and felt something hot slide up my throat.

My father picked up the card, looked at it once, and tore it in half.

Then half again.

Mom opened the hall closet.

Empty.

“He moved the quilts,” she said.

We found them packed in contractor bags in the garage along with family photo albums, Dad’s tackle box, Mom’s sewing basket, and continue reading …