The Telegram

I remember finding it amongst the papers, folded in with everything else. It didn't stand out at first — just another piece to look through, another thing to try and place.

But then I read it.

"Baby girl available for adoption, call here Tuesday 09:30 and bring baby clothes."

It was simple, direct, written in a way that didn't leave much space around it.

I sat with it for a moment.

Up until then, there had been small things — questions, details that hadn't quite settled but could still be placed somewhere manageable. I'd found ways to let them rest, to carry on without needing to look too closely.

But this felt harder to set aside in the same way.

Not because anything was said out loud.

Just something about it… stayed.

I didn't go searching for more in that moment. I didn't try to piece everything together. It felt enough just to hold it, quietly, without needing to move any further with it.

And somewhere in that, something began to make sense in a way it hadn't before. Not all at once. Not clearly. Just enough to feel different.

I didn't stay with it for long. It felt easier to step away, to leave it where it was for the time being.

But it didn't leave me in quite the same way.

Some discoveries don't ask to be understood straight away. They just ask to be held. 🌿