Renata’s Pink Blanket Led Me Back to the Letter My Parents Buried

She went to her bedroom and returned with the blanket folded over both arms.

One corner had come loose where the old stitching met the worn fabric.

She laid it on the kitchen chair while she opened her folder.

Her family drawing was on top.

Before the hearing, she had left an empty space beside my picture.

Now she had drawn a woman there, with a long dress and a small baby wrapped in pink.

“That’s Mommy,” she said.