Gone, Not Forgotten

For years I’ve wondered about Joanne. The last time I saw her was in Denver. She seemed happy, settled, but there was something about her, almost wistfulness, especially when she talked about her children. She did seem worried about their father, concerned that he might suddenly reappear, demanding his parental rights. We talked late into the night about the choices we’d made, how growing up in West Texas hadn’t prepared either of us for the city life, how we might have made different choices if we could do it over.

That was the last I ever saw or heard of her. And then later there was that strange 4:00 am call from her parents, asking if I had heard from Joanne or knew where she might be. I was too groggy to get their phone number and couldn’t find them later. I called the last phone number I had for Joanne but it was disconnected. I sent a card and it was returned, addressee unknown.