My mother’s handbag still contains a bus ticket home

Dear Delyara, My mother collapsed while shopping and died in hospital that evening. Today, I emptied the handbag she was carrying. Receipts, tissues, mints, a pen that did not work, and a return bus ticket. One half had been used getting into town. The other half was for coming home. I sat there staring at it. Such a tiny contract with the future: I will go out, do my shopping, and later I will return. Mum had bought milk, soap, and a birthday card for my nephew. Her house key was in the side pocket. Everything in that bag expected evening. The bus ticket especially. I have lost people before, but I had never understood how many objects assume survival. Tickets, leftovers, alarms, appointments written for next week. Tonight, I put the return ticket beside her photograph. My brother says that is morbid. Maybe. To me, it is unbearably tender. My mother left the house believing she would come back to it. The ticket did not know otherwise.