Then I typed: I am well.

Keep doing the work.

It was not forgiveness, not reconciliation, not a return to the way things had been.

It was the truth, and it was enough for that day.

PART 20: The Letter in the Blue Tin

In late summer, I found a blue biscuit tin at the back of a closet while looking for holiday decorations.

Marcus had packed it with my things during the move.

The lid was dented on one side, and a faded label still said BUTTER COOKIES, although there hadn’t been a cookie inside it for twenty years.