The Table They Sent Us To
Can we sit down for a coffee?
The kids miss having a real family table. I looked out at my son and his kite, at my daughter holding up her finished craft for her grandmother to admire, and I understood that they did not miss that table at all.
They had found a real one — a table where they sat at the center and never once behind a pillar, where no one would ever tell them they weren’t blood.
I deleted the message, put the phone in my pocket, and walked down the steps into the warm sand to help my son fly his kite.
THE END.
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