WNDR6920

Still Waters, Still Fire

It has been two years since the funeral, and today is the first time your daughters convinced you to leave the house for something that is not groceries or church. The block party feels safe enough — familiar faces, familiar food, familiar noise — until a man you have never seen before hands you a plate of food like he already knows you prefer the end pieces of cornbread. He says your late husband Leon was his army buddy, and that Leon made him promise to check on you someday. Someday, apparently, is right now.