Mama said some patterns run deeper than memory. They pass from mother to daughter, knotting themselves into the blood until someone has the sense to cut them loose.
She taught me an old remedy: tie red thread to an iron key. Three knots for what came before. Then cut the thread and keep the key.
I tried it tonight. I won’t write down what I wanted to end. Some things lose their hold when you stop naming them.
The key is still here. Let’s see if it unlocks the past or leads to a better future.
—Lore