September 3, 2026

I Stood in My Old Kitchen on a Chilly Saturday Afternoon When My Son Said, ‘I’m Getting Married Tomorrow. Goodbye.’

But it was just that—a memory, fading fast.

I took a deep breath, the air heavy and thick.

“What do I do now?” I asked, more to myself than to him.

His silence was my only answer.

Minutes stretched, the heater’s drone the only sound.

I turned again to the window, to the garden.

Still there, but different now, somehow.

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