#37

i flew into las vegas the day after mom's aneurysm.

it was life interrupted in the house. her purse was on the kitchen table, her lipstick out.

she wasn't planning on never coming home.

mom was planning the first christmas that suzanne & ben would be joining us. she had a three page to-do list.

each item was numbered. each item made sense, like 'pressure wash the deck.'

except #37.

'#37- mail molly's package. '

no one knows anything about the package.

i feel like the kid from 'extremely loud and incredibly close' searching for the lock to go to his father's key.

late at night, tonight, i'm thinking about #37.