the last bridge still carrying my name.
The one labeled daughter who might someday come home.
There would be no third option after this.
I looked at June.
My grandmother gave the smallest nod.
I released the pew.
I stood.
I did not take the microphone.
First Grace was built in 1921.
Back then, rooms were built to carry voices.
A calm voice carries well.
I stood at the front with my hands empty.
And somehow, I wasn’t afraid.
Ten years in intensive care teaches you what an actual emergency
