—for J.C.M.
Waking to the sound of my parents dressing across the hall, I listened to the procedures in the dark with the door cracked open. It was early morning. It felt like I had just fallen asleep a few minutes before, but I could hear my parents moving, getting dressed. A jacket hanger pulled from the rack, the slide of plastic on oak, the steady pull of a zipper, sounds I’d memorized, listening to my father get ready for work. He sighed heavily as he sat on the bed. Mom helped with the suit jacket, letting the arms in before sliding it up and over his shoulders, flattening the lapels and patting the shoulder pads while whispering some trembling magic into his ear.
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