Footsteps up the driveway, hours too early. Clinking of keys on the hook, coins in the can, wallet on the counter. Familiar, but with the sun still high. The baby was eagerly latched on, so you came to us. It wasn’t a surprise, the layoff, and when you joined us on the faded sectional—the one you grew up with, the first bit of furniture in our new house—we spoke our worry with shrugs and tears. Until she noticed you. The break in a routine of two, now three. Perfect blond head popping up. Wide eyes. Lopsided, milky grin.
Jennifer Smith Gray grew up in Northern Ontario and lives in Toronto. Her work has been published in Sweet Lit, Memoir Mixtapes, and Birkensnake. See more work at www.jennifersmithgray.com, and find Jennifer on Twitter and Instagram @isshedreaming.