Notes From the Future

April 22nd, 2045

A,

I didn’t want to wake you so I took my coffee out back to sit with the moonflowers before they closed their eyes for the day. I started the shortbread for the lemon bars we’re taking with us to dinner tonight, poked around the roses, and slipped back into bed long enough to watch you sleep deeply. I kissed both of your eyelids and left coffee on the counter for you. I’ll be at the neighbors, come find me when you wake up.

xx Sarah Ava

April 22nd, 2035

Moonie,

Do you remember when I pulled over on the highway when you were four? You were so young and I’ll never forget how worry left its mark on your face. Your brother was still a baby and he was crying and I was crying and I cried so hard I couldn’t still myself so to keep the three of us safe I pulled to the shoulder and unbuckled you. You helped get your brother out of his carseat and handed him to me before crawling into the front seat with us. I don’t remember how long we sat there but I remember you rifling through the diaper bag until you found a clementine that you peeled quietly before stretching across your brother to feed me. You’ve always had a heart of gold, my love. You’re going to get pissed and make mistakes. You’re going to lash out and say things you don’t mean. Remember that though- what you do matters. You can’t take back actions but you can learn. You can do better next time. There’s nothing you could do to make me ever quit loving you. Please don’t beat yourself up and please promise you’ll remember your heart.

I love you far and wide.

xx Momma

April 22nd, 2030

To-Do

grocery store

trellis

chicken feed

workshop prep: food & grief

separate zinnias

break up flag stone

bread for the neighbors

library

shoes for Little

April 22nd, 2040

Little,

When you were four you asked me if you should be a dad, do you remember that? I was thinking about that the other day and how I didn’t really give you an answer. I remember telling you that I wouldn’t trade you or your sister for anything in this world but that knowing what I know now or even back then, I told you that you must be sure before you do. Sure inside your bones. Don’t make decisions rooted in someone else’s happiness, promise me? You would make a brilliant father someday Maddox Dylan and it’ll make you the happiest you’ve ever been and devastate you in ways you can’t imagine— in ways that have nothing to do with you. Can you carry that?

Come home this weekend and we can talk more over dinner.

We miss and love you all the time,

xx M & Y

April 25th, 2026

A year ago today I was woken up too early— Anaya left for Michigan to visit Rei in the long-term care facility that has become his home and the smell of rain clung to the sheets. Anaya on my left, coaxing me quietly, Moonie standing over me on the right, gently rubbing my arm while Little patted my face. Moonie made coffee while I washed my face and Little changed twice before we got in the car. After we dropped his sister off we listened to Moonboy by Bennett Coast and since we had a few minutes before the bell rang we stopped in the coffee shop up the street. The human behind the counter got low and spoke to Little directly— they were patient and engaging despite his attempts to disappear back into my skin. I always appreciate when kids, my kids, any kids, are given a chance. I’ve been thinking about how many chances I’ve been given.