third started: We lost twins…
The fourth read: I never thought I’d survive burying my little girl…
By the sixth stroller, tears blurred my vision.
The yard no longer felt frightening.
It felt holy.
Someone had collected all this sorrow and brought it together.
Yet none of the letters explained why.
As I approached another stroller, I heard a car door close behind me.
I turned around.
Several neighbors stood along the sidewalk, staring at the lawn.
More vehicles pulled beside the curb.
People began climbing out of them.
Entire
