Joanne Brennan — The Husband Who Thought He Could Come Home
The shipping label bore Roger’s name.
Inside was the old wooden birdhouse my father had made with Trevor.
It had been hanging in Roger’s workshop storage unit for years.
A note lay beneath it.
I found this while sorting boxes.
It belongs with you.
I’m sorry I kept so many things without thinking who they mattered to.
There was no request to meet, no plea to talk, no suggestion that the gift earned him a favor.
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