Meredith Caldwell — The Blue Folder
We went to a little café where the tables were too close together and the bread was always warm.
Andrew joined us with Willa, who had just learned to clap whenever anyone smiled at her.
I held my daughter while Lauren ordered sandwiches.
Willa dropped her rabbit beneath the table three times, and Andrew retrieved it three times without complaint.
I looked around at the people talking over their meals, the sunlight on the windows, the waitress balancing four plates, and felt an overwhelming gratitude for the ordinariness of it all.
The divorce had not made me a different person.
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