'Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?' So... poetry from Psalms, right? Nope. This is Job.

I process by writing. I'm steady writing this time, but not yet processing. I had Roy Rogers chicken once, sure enough, in a rest stop. Then I remembered — I was with Aunt Phyllis. And just like that, the memories rushed in.

She bore no children. Yet she raised generations and begot relationships. Aunt Sallie was my model for holiness, my symbol of wisdom, my blueprint for grace.

I have a bad memory. It's not the baby, it's me. I can't remember a single bad thing about you.