My Son Called at Midnight About the Blanket His Wife Threw Away

went to the drawer by the stove, and took out my small seam ripper. Blue handle. Cheap metal. Older than Emily.

Ethan watched every movement.

“Your father started this when you were seven,” I said.

His mouth opened a little. Closed again.

“He didn’t tell me how much he meant to put aside. Just that every year, whenever we could, we added to it. Some years continue reading …