The Morning I Thought I Understood Everything

The iron slid over my shirt collar for the second time, though there was not a wrinkle left in it.

I knew the shirt was already smooth. I knew the collar did not need another pass. But my hands needed something to do, and that morning, keeping them busy felt easier than standing still with all the emotions gathering inside me.

On the dresser, the framed picture of Hailey’s mother seemed to watch me the way it always did, with that small half-smile and gentle eyes.

I paused with the iron in my hand and looked at her.

“I kept the promise,” I said quietly to the glass. “She never felt like half of anything.”