By the time I reached the foot of the stairs, my empty heart sank to meet the emptiness of the basement around for me. One single shelf remained in the room aside from a washer and dryer and nothing else. On the shelf sat the ten dolls, each neatly dressed with hair combed and eyes like shiny pearls. And there, on top of the shelf was something new, something I had never seen before. My hands reached out trembling as I grasped the folded-up paper note she had left me before she took off for good and shattered my heart to bits.
Dear Lawrence,
We had an agreement. One day you will be sitting alone in the living room reading a book by the fire and thinking about how lonely your life has truly become and you will realize you lost it all for selfish reasons. I remember the night we were out having a bonfire in the back yard and you looked into my eyes and told me, “You are all I’ll ever need to get better” because, no matter what turmoil you had experienced at the hands of a drunk driver, I was supposed to be your shining light, your new family, the one you leaned on and looked forward to having a future with forever and beyond. You started taking their things and throwing it into the fire. I never would have asked for any of this but you did it all on your own and then you promised me that was your step forward, your moving on. From what you lost, into what you now gained.
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