When I was seventeen, my family moved two states away without telling me. They left a note that said, “You’ll figure it out.” Twelve years later, after I finally built a life on my own, they reached out to reconnect.
The note was taped to the chipped kitchen counter right where the kettle used to sit. I still remember the handwriting, uneven and rushed, every letter trembling. It said only, “You’ll manage.” There was no address, no reason, no goodbye. I was seventeen and had just come home from a late shift at the diner … Read more