The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
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The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
I had spent six years dreaming about becoming a mother, but nothing prepared me for how quickly that dream could turn into a question…