Renata’s Pink Blanket Led Me Back to the Letter My Parents Buried
She looked toward the bedroom, where the small pink blanket had been folded at the end of her bed.
Her overnight bag was still beside the wall, its zipper open.
“Can I put the blanket back?”
“Of course.”
She carried it to her room.
When she returned, she brought the blanket with her and placed it across the back of her chair.
“Grandma asked if she could come to my school concert,” she said.
I stopped sorting the papers.
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