This story is not mine. It showed up as a random smoosh of papers, tucked inside a plastic box that I found on my porch once the flood waters drained. I think it is just a story. I’m putting the pieces together, trying to put the pages in some sort of order but the more I read, I think maybe it could be more. Maybe what I hold in my hands is not just a story but some hint of the truth.
It seems too much for one person to decide on their own, so I’m going to share it here; posting each piece as it comes together, re-typing what on the pages is handwritten and hoping I get it right. Then if you read it, if you find this, what we share here will just be our little secret.
But If you wrote it…if you wrote it I hope it is not your truth because if it is, your heart must still be broken. If it is we will never know to say thank you.