A few years later, a card arrived in the mail. It was from Monica, I'd recognized her handwriting, having memorized her cursive style. Any other day I...d have been delighted to have received this card with my heart skipping a beat and rising into my throat while opening the envelope. But this wasn't just any card. It wasn't a Valentine's Day card, or birthday card. It was a wedding invitation, and that invitation took remaining fragile piece of my heart that burned the small flame of hope and. My dad was reading the paper, as my mother was knitting. As Anne took the dishes away, I said, “Mom was keeping busy when you were away!” My mother jerked her head up to look at me as her face went puce. Anne’s hands shook as she gathered the dishes. My father said, “Is that right?” but didn’t look up. Mom waited for me to say more but I just stared at her with my cheeky grin. I knew I had her! This was a delight. As I laid out my books for my homework, I said to Anne, with glee, “Were you sick. More

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