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.