I cannot throw a single instance of it away.

Just looking at the ballpoint jottings on the page, I could see her writing out the words—see her tilt the page sideways and write with her arm crooked, moving down the page in columns as though writing Japanese. The half-cursive with its b’s and l’s standing out. As unique as a fingerprint. I hoard evidence of her handwriting, on birthday cards or grocery lists or receipts. I cannot throw a single instance of it away.

Blair Hurley, My Mother is Gone, But Her Edits Remain