For most of my life, I convinced myself that some people were meant to remain in the past, no matter how badly you once wished they could have stayed in your future.
Then, after forty-one years, I heard a voice say my name.
“Ruthie.”
And suddenly, every year between us disappeared.
I was standing outside a hospital room with one hand resting on the door.
Forty-one years.
That was how long it had been since I had seen Jeffrey.
Forty-one years since his final letter.
Forty-one years since he had
