I’m folding laundry with my helper, Alden, when I pick up a sleeper.
Was it Kenley’s?
I feel like it was Kenley’s? I KNOW it was.
Who bought it for her, expecting her to wear it?
It has been 2 years, 2 months, 23 days + change since you’ve been gone and I hate that I’m forgetting these tiny things about your short life.
It’s dumb; I shouldn’t be sad that I can’t remember who got you this sleeper, yet it bugs me.
It frustrates me to my core.
I’m tired, and stressed. Your little sisters are here and you didn’t get a chance. They both wore this sleeper and you didn’t.
It still stings.
It stings really fucking bad.