Ruth Brandt — The Suitcase on the Porch
Archer waved goodbye through his window.
When I got home, I opened the drawer where I kept the ultrasound photograph.
Its edges were soft now from being held so often.
I placed it beside the picture of the four children in the park and a small photograph of Eva and me standing under the olive tree.
Once, I had believed my future ended where the stone driveway began.
Now I knew it had only changed direction.