Grandma ignored her.
“Look in the pocket.”
There was no pocket that I could see.
Then I noticed a tiny inner fold near the waist.
Inside was an envelope.
My name was written on it.
The handwriting was Grandma’s, but shaky.
Much shakier than the writing on cards she had sent me years earlier.
I opened it.
The first line said:
“For the baby I hope I live long enough to meet.”
I couldn’t keep reading.
I put the letter down and covered my face.
Mark crouched beside me.
“You okay?”
I nodded even though I wasn’t.
Grandma said, “Read it.”
“Out loud?”
“If you can.”
I looked around.
My mother was crying.
My uncle was pretending not to.
Half the party had gone quiet.
I swallowed and began.
“My darling girl,
“You once told me you were frightened you might never become a mother.”
“I did not know what to say because there are some pains you cannot fix by finding the correct sentence.”
