Right before my wedding day, I stopped by my future mother-in-law’s house. As I was leaving, I realized I had forgotten my cardigan

letters, and a small beige cardigan I had forgotten existed. It was older than the cream cardigan, simpler, with uneven stitching along the cuffs. My mother had made it years earlier when money was tight and she refused to let me buy a winter cardigan on credit.

In one of the letters, her handwriting leaned across the page.

Harper, if I am not here to continue reading …