Mom closed her eyes.
That was the part no box could fix.
Anna had died with the question Margaret was only now answering.
Nothing could give them back the lifetime they’d lost.
Mom could never hold the 12-year-old who had waited at a mailbox.
Anna could never hear what had been inside that missing four-page letter.
But Margaret finally knew one thing for certain.
Anna had never stopped loving her.
Mom looked around the checkout lane. “I think I’d like to finish buying my groceries.”
Helen laughed through her tears. “Okay.”
She unlocked the register.
Mom stood slowly. Her six items were still waiting.
Bread.
Milk.
Tea.
Apples.
Soup.
A little chocolate cake she’d claimed was “for visitors,” although she was the one who always ate it.
Helen scanned each item.
When it was time to pay, Mom took out her card.
Her hands were trembling again.
She tried to insert it.
