Yesterday morning, I washed my bedding. After drying the last of the sheets, I trundled everything back to my room and tried to make-up the bed. Weird thing. I had to fight through a kind of sad reluctance to make Uyen’s side of the bed. I thought about how that side will remain untouched until I tear the bedding away the next time I wash. Always the small and mundane tasks that carry the weight of loss. Why is that so?
--Mitchell Hegman
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