They built the seeing.

They just had to do it on purpose now, instead of trusting it to a woman in a mail truck who’d been doing it so quietly for thirty-one years that nobody knew it was being done at all.

And here is the thing I did not expect, the thing that has become, over two years of chewing on it, almost a kind of faith for me.

What they built was better than what I’d been doing.

I don’t like admitting it — a woman likes to think she’s irreplaceable, especially at the end, especially about the one thing she gave her life to.

But the truth is that my version of the seeing had a flaw in it, and the flaw was me.