When I was seventeen, my family packed up and left without a word, just a note that read, “You’ll figure it out.” Twelve years later, after I’d built a life entirely on my own, they suddenly wanted back in.
The note was stuck to the kitchen counter, right where the coffee maker used to be. I can still see the handwriting which is uneven, rushed, shaky. It was Mom’s. …
When I was seventeen, my family packed up and left without a word, just a note that read, “You’ll figure it out.” Twelve years later, after I’d built a life entirely on my own, they suddenly wanted back in. Read More
