What I Heard Through The Vents
It started with laughter upstairs—loud, confident, relaxed.
The way people sound when they think they’re alone.
Then my daughter Jenna said words that made my stomach drop.
“Once Mom gets emotional and confused in front of everyone, no judge will argue with the guardianship petition.”
Guardianship.
The word hit like a fist.
My son-in-law Brad followed, steady and clinical.
“We do the intervention at Christmas dinner. We read the letter. Get Pastor Mike to pray over her. Make her look unstable.”
I had to grip the doorframe to stay upright.
And then Jenna finished the thought like she was talking about cleaning out a closet.
