The only place left to check for the locket was the stacks of boxes in the garage.Once inside, I closed the carport doors, put the shovel away, and tu...ned to face the boxes. There were three stacks of five. Fifteen boxes. I didn’t know what was in any of them or why they were here. I didn’t recall Dad ever asking me to help him put anything in a box, much less multiple boxes, and other than when we moved into the house, sometime after Mom and Dad were married, we never had a reason to box. She was happy to have escaped all of that and lucky to have discovered New York instead of becoming the quintessential American New Englander wearing plaid skirts and duck shoes, driving a Saab, cooking dinner for a tall white boyfriend who worked for Pratt & Whitney, going to church on Sundays with her parents, weddings every weekend, and a bridal shower every month. Her past life seemed so distant, and how she wound up in New Jersey she had no idea, and soon she would attend a poetry. More

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