Willa’s reasoning, at fifteen, was: “You all wrote them.

I’m the only one who didn’t, because I couldn’t write when it was happening and by the time I could nobody was doing it anymore.

So I’m the only one who gets to read them as somebody’s kid instead of as themselves.”

They are in her room in six document boxes.

The poster went in the recycling.

Solveig did it and made a production of it.

And the crate is still in my garage, empty, with the bow on it, and I have been asked three times to get rid of it and I have not, and I cannot entirely tell you why.