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Sitting at the dining room table, I closed my notebook and turned off the light. I felt my way in the dark down the hall to our bedroom and got back into bed. My mind was alive, racing with thoughts as usual. Tomorrow the foster boy, Wyatt, would be coming into our home, this house made of strong brick and rock. This house able to withstand bad weather and furious winds throughout the years, with its stable roof and walls and plaster that tightened when the earth moved. This house, our house, that creaked and ticked with the passing of time, welcoming the voices of strangers and the company of spirits whose laughter lifted like smoke through the chimney. I wondered how such a place remained firm, intact, solid, throughout its years of soaking up all the crying and pain, the laughter and longing, all the memories birthed from my swollen belly.
Excerpted from The Removed by Brandon Hobson. Copyright © 2021 by Brandon Hobson. Excerpted by permission of Ecco. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Life is the garment we continually alter, but which never seems to fit.
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