My Mother

Not erased from the world.

Not erased from memory.

But removed from the place where it could ambush us during ordinary life.

Daniel set the phone down.

I leaned against him.

“Do you ever regret recording?” I asked.

“No.”

The answer came without hesitation.

“I regret that there was something to record,” he said. “But no, Claire. I don’t regret protecting our continue reading …