I want to say I didn’t miss the bells.

Dearest Babycakes. Y’all make me love my life something fierce. Thank you.

HANNAH BRENCHER

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“So sorry you missed Christmas– just sending a belated holiday wish! Good luck in St. Louis. You will be a smashing success!

Much love, Mom--”

I found the letter tucked in the side of my carry-on bag while waiting in the gate for a connecting flight. Little snowmen adorned the front of the envelope. The scribbles were familiar; they’ve been stretching across my memories for years.

She must have tucked the card, wedged it deep, when I wasn’t looking. When I was packing a bag or fixing my hair in the mirror. With every letter she leaves for me to find, my mama says “Carry me with you. I want to go wherever you’re going. I want to see whatever you’re seeing.”

 

“I feel like I already missed Christmas,” I said, tracing circles in the carpet just the night before. “I feel like it’s already gone.”

“You’re being…

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