It was heavy, so I did something that still makes me smile.
I fastened the seat belt around it.
Then I drove away.
Nobody came outside.
Nobody asked me to stay.
And my son didn’t call until I’d almost reached the highway.
My phone vibrated before I’d even left Owen’s neighborhood.
His message read:
Mom, where are you going? Christa’s parents haven’t eaten yet.
I stared at the screen.
Not Are you okay?
Not I’m sorry.
Just concern that his dinner guests were still waiting.
I placed the phone facedown.
Then I drove home in silence.
As the miles passed, I remembered other moments I’d tried to forget.
Two years earlier, Christa’s parents had spent Thanksgiving at my house while their kitchen was being renovated.
I’d cooked for two days.
When Elaine arrived, she looked around my living room and remarked, “Well, it certainly looks lived in.”
