I drove 500 miles to be with family, only for my father to call me an “em.bar.ras.s.ment” at the table. His reason? My truck.

I didn’t need to.

I pulled Ivy and Hazel into my arms and held them as the door closed behind my father.

After they were gone, the house felt strangely quiet. The kind of quiet that happens after a storm tears through a place and leaves behind broken branches and clean air.

Only six of us remained: Grandpa, Uncle Silas, Aunt Lillian, Ivy, Hazel, and me.continue reading …