Her husband died in the spring.
In a box painted with roses, she saved all the birthday, anniversary and valentine cards he’d given her. They made a comforting collection.
Only later she discovered a yellow post-it note, on his desk in the den.
And despite the sentimental printed messages on the cards, she could not stop thinking about this one small note, written in his hand. A phrase she herself had often used to deflect criticism, disagreements. Bearing her name. Now, she wondered, was it also a reproach that he had never shared?
‘Elizabeth.’ And ‘Accept what you cannot change.’
In a box painted with roses, she saved all the birthday, anniversary and valentine cards he’d given her. They made a comforting collection.
Only later she discovered a yellow post-it note, on his desk in the den.
And despite the sentimental printed messages on the cards, she could not stop thinking about this one small note, written in his hand. A phrase she herself had often used to deflect criticism, disagreements. Bearing her name. Now, she wondered, was it also a reproach that he had never shared?
‘Elizabeth.’ And ‘Accept what you cannot change.’
