ADVERTISEMENT
The cardigan, still neatly folded, was tucked into the back of my closet. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it—not because I didn’t like it, but because it filled me with guilt. I had brushed off her effort, treated her gift like any other sweater. And then she was gone. Every time I opened the closet, it felt less like fabric and more like a silent reminder of the thank you I never truly gave.
Then, one rainy afternoon, while cleaning with my fifteen-year-old daughter, she found it.
Continue READING…
Continue READING
ADVERTISEMENT