The Aquarian

A remembrance of my mother, who would have turned ninety this month.

The family letters weren’t stored with the rest of our things. They weren’t kept with the pictures in the attic. Our family’s words and letters were the only things more precious to my mother than our photographs. They were stored, hidden really, under linens and old clothes, in the bottom shelves of a dresser in my mother’s bedroom, some of them bound …