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  • Writer's pictureRachelle Jervis

Day 20

Updated: Jun 26, 2019

Shaking with fear, I realize I am actually going to have to move out of the house I shared with my daughter soon. I fear touching her precious things. I fear somehow diminishing her memory. I irrationally fear she won’t be able to find her way back home.

I believed I would have more time. Time when the house’s construction projects would be completed. Time when our house would be on the market. Time for the closing to progress. Time to come to terms with everything. Ultimately, I just want more time with my daughter.

If I was in a logical frame of mind, I would see the idea of having a four-bedroom house to myself is ridiculous.

Constance’s father will have the house empty and listed in the next few weeks. He needs to “move on” with his life. I find his sentiment singularly fanciful. Moving means my plan to keep my daughter’s room in museum-quality preservation for the near term is just another dream about her future that is not going to happen.

I am moving my daughter’s things into public storage. I can’t be the first person to cry there.


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