A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
Marcus was fast asleep in his bedroom, his miniature windmill sitting on his desk with its paper sails taped to a plastic straw.
I checked his covers, pulling the blue quilt up to his chin before I walked down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen.
Anna was already standing by the back door, her heels sitting on the linoleum while she looked out into the yard.
“The air is very clear tonight,” she said, opening the door to the back porch.
I followed her out onto the wooden steps, the cool November breeze coming off the state park forest to the west.
She sat down on the second step, wrapping her arms around her knees to keep the emerald dress from dragging on the painted wood.
I sat next to her, leaving six inches of space between our shoulders so she did not feel crowded by my presence.
“It feels good to use my own name again, Jordan,” she said, her voice drifting into the quiet yard.
“Dr. Thorne seemed very impressed by your notes,” I said, looking down at my shoes. “He did not ask about my tech job once.”
