Every Light in the House
“I promise.” Andrew wrapped his arms around us both. For several minutes there was no other sound inside the house.
Then my grandmother handed me the note. It was written on a yellow pad in my mother’s handwriting. Be good. Food is in the fridge. Mrs. K will check in.
Back Sunday. No phone number. No complete name. No directions for an emergency. Nothing suggesting the note had been written for a child who could barely read complete sentences.
On the kitchen table sat Mia’s drawing notebook. The first page showed a square house with one tiny figure inside. Yellow lines filled every window. “What is this?”
I asked her later.
“The lights.”