I carried the envelope to the back porch.
The porch was Robert’s favorite place.
He would sit there early in the morning with coffee and the newspaper, reading every section except fashion and pretending not to enjoy the celebrity gossip I later summarized for him.
I sat in his chair.
Then I opened the envelope.
Inside were several sheets of paper.
A handwritten letter lay on top.
Margaret,
If you’re reading this because you found it while cleaning, congratulations. You have finally cleaned the hall desk, which means civilization may now advance.
I laughed aloud.
Then covered my mouth.
For half a second, the sound felt like he was there.
I continued.
If you’re reading this because I’m not around anymore, I’m sorry.
I stared at the page until the words blurred.
I wiped my eyes and kept going.
I know you hate when I plan for things we don’t want to discuss, but that is why one of us has to do it.
