Don’t Let Your Mother Answer for You
Sometimes twice a week.
It was, at that point, about a fourteen-month habit and it had been going since my father died in the March before I deployed.
She was, I thought, the one steady thing.
Wendy Kalinowski is seventy now and was fifty-nine then, and she had been widowed for six months, and she had one son, and that son was eight thousand miles away.
I sent her that photograph on a Tuesday.
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