Not because she planned to stay.
Because she wanted clothes, her work laptop, and a ceramic bowl her grandmother had given her.
Ellen suggested I remain in the car.
I agreed.
Old Jack Carter was making progress.
The apartment complex looked exactly as it always had.
Children rode bicycles along the sidewalk.
Someone was washing a pickup truck.
A woman walked a tiny dog wearing a sweater that appeared to cost more than my boots.
Nothing about the world announced that our family had changed.
Marcy and Ellen went inside.
Twenty minutes later, they returned with two bags and a box.
Marcy climbed into the passenger seat.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“You okay?”
She nodded.
Then looked toward the apartment.
“I thought leaving would feel bigger.”
“Most important decisions don’t come with music.”
She laughed.
“Was that supposed to be profound?”
“No. I heard it in a movie.”
