I am not sure why I decided to do what I did. I don’t think I realized the consequences, but moments are so fleeting that sometimes it’s hard to know their value. If I had, I never would have taken such a risk.

Leah was working later than usual and Evelyn was engrossed in a school project. I felt a little ball bouncing in my stomach and as the afternoon wore on, the ball got bigger. I tried walking into different rooms, but that only made it bounce more.

Not only did I miss Matilda, but I missed my mother.

I was dreaming of her at night. Quick little visits. She never spoke, and when I reached out to touch her, she turned and walked away. Some nights I would wake up to the sound of random letters spilling from my lips, shaking me from my dreams. The sadness came so slowly that I didn’t notice until it was too late and then it was all I could feel.

I was alone in the house that afternoon, the bouncing ball in my belly so loud that I could hear it in my head. I went into Leah’s room and sat on her bed. Then I crawled underneath and pulled out the maroon portfolio. I unhooked the string that held it together and pulled out the drawings Leah had made of my mother. I sat on the floor and spread them around in a big circle so that everywhere I turned I saw a different image of her. I pulled my knees in close, wrapped my arms around myself, and rocked back and forth until the bouncing ball finally stopped. I collected the drawings, put them back inside the portfolio as neatly as I could, and slid them back under the bed.

Things would have happened differently if it hadn’t been so cold that day. I was wearing my big gray sweater, the one Leah picked out for me with designs around the wrists that looked like a bracelet made of O’s. I slipped the portfolio under the bed but one of the loops got caught on something. I struggled for a few minutes, fumbling to pry myself loose, and that’s when I felt it. A second manila envelope stuffed between the slats of the bed. I don’t know what compelled me to loosen it from its hiding place but that’s what I did and then I opened it.

More drawings. But these weren’t of my mother.

These were images of Leah.