The Confession
I need to confess. I carry post-it notes in my purse. I try to keep a pad handy for when the need arises, ever since I realized the power of post-its. It started years ago. A sister I often visit in another state, would get visibly sad when I prepared to leave. I knew she didn’t want me (and often my family) to leave. She would start asking me questions to sidetrack me with conversation, or she would start gathering things for me to take—like drinks, snacks, sometimes even a sandwich. My sister told me once after I left, “I cried before you were even out of the driveway.” It broke my heart to know how my departure had caused such sadness. One visit, knowing the dreaded goodbye was on the horizon, she left before us for a doctor’s appointment. It made my “exit” so much easi...