Wish I didn’t lose Papa’s army tags in the ocean that year we went to Florida for vacation. Wish I’d buried him with Mom’s crucifix, like he’d asked. Wish I hadn’t been so selfish. Wish I didn’t have bunions so bad, my big toes look like they have smaller toes growing out of them. Wish we’d had one more kid, Alice. Wish I’d made lieutenant. Had more resources at my disposal to . . . to’ve helped more. To’ve done more. Wish I could forget some things and remember others. “Wish that, someday, they find her. Someday soon. “Wish I had.”
