For Eight Years He Left The House At The Same Hour, And I Never Once Asked Where The Road Went.

The kitchen was quiet that morning except for the sound of sandwich bags opening and closing.

I was making lunches the way I always did.

One for my nine-year-old son, Elliot.

One for my husband, Marcus.

Turkey sandwich.

Apple.

A small bag of chips.

And, as always, a folded note tucked beneath Marcus’s napkin…. Continue Reading ⬇️