But it was the first sentence my mother had ever written that did not ask me to carry her excuse.
I folded the letter carefully.
Outside, the January sky was pale and cold.
Inside, something frozen shifted one inch toward thaw.
PART 7
When the House Finally Chose Its Family
Moving day came with sleet.
Of course it did.
My father’s lease began on January twenty-seventh, and by eight in the morning, the world had turned gray and slippery. He told me not to come. Then he called back fifteen minutes later and asked if I could bring tape.
I brought tape, coffee, and Noah, who insisted Grandpa would not know which way was north in his new apartment unless someone checked.
Emma stayed with Mrs. Delgado next door, claiming she had homework, though we both knew she was not ready to see Grandpa yet. I did not push.
Dad’s new apartment was on the second floor of a brick building near the park. It smelled like fresh paint and radiator heat. The kitchen was small. The bedroom barely fit his bed. The living room window faced a maple tree that would be beautiful in autumn.
