Not necessarily during a speech.
But eventually.
Her sister placed it in front of her.
Chloe opened the lid.
Inside were letters.
Dozens.
Some in children’s handwriting.
Some written by their father.
Some still sealed.
Many stamped:
RETURN TO SENDER.
Chloe picked up the first one.
“This was mine.”
She held it up.
“I was eight.”
Elena stared.
“I drew you a picture of our house.”
Chloe pulled out a folded page.
Six stick-figure girls.
One tall man.
One woman standing far away beneath a yellow sun.
On the back, in purple crayon, Chloe had written:
Mommy please come to my school play.
She looked at Elena.
“It came back.”
Elena’s face tightened.
“You don’t know what was happening then.”
“No.”
Chloe nodded.
“I was eight.”
She took another envelope.
“This one was from Lily.”
Another.
“This was Maya’s.”
Maya stared at the table.
“She was two when Dad helped her put handprints on the paper.”
