my mother’s raw material.
I got up.
Went into the bathroom.
Under the thin motel light, I took out the cream envelope.
Homecoming Sunday.
All are welcome home.
That word.
Welcome.
Behind me, Marin shifted in bed.
And quietly, to nobody in particular, I said it.
I decided to go to church.
Let me tell you how I prepared because it matters.
I did not print bank statements.
Six years of transfers were sitting in a file cabinet seven hours away in Asheville.
I left them there.
I wasn’t going
