“I think your life just changed.”
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***
That evening, my phone started ringing.
I stared at the screen.
Denise.
Then I answered. “Hello?”
“Mom!” she cried, like we’d just talked yesterday and not eleven months ago. “I saw the news! Why didn’t you call me?”
I looked at the wall where last Mother’s Day’s only card still hung. It was from my dentist, a sweet young woman who had lost her own mother a few years before.
My phone started ringing.
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“I was just surprised, Denise,” I said.
“We’ve been meaning to come by, Mom. Things have just been crazy, you know?”
“Crazy for the past two years?”
Silence.
Then she laughed too brightly. “Oh, Mom. You and your jokes.”
“I’ve got to go, Denise,” I said. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
Then Benjamin called.
“Things have just been crazy, you know?”
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“Hey, Ma,” he said, warm as butter. “The kids miss you.”
“Do they?”
“Of course. Max was just asking about you.”
“Really? What did he ask?”
Another pause.
“Well, you know kids. They ask things.”
“I do know kids, Benjamin. I raised three before they disappeared on me.”
“The kids miss you.”
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***
Carla sent a text full of hearts, then called.
“Mom, we should all get together,” she said. “To celebrate you.”
***
Within three days, my children had planned a Sunday visit.
I knew why they were coming. I’m old, not stupid. But when Denise texted, “I can’t wait to hug you, Mom,” my heart lifted anyway, foolish as a balloon.
So I cooked.
I pulled out Benjamin’s old roasting pan, Carla’s favorite serving bowl, and the lemon zester Denise once begged me to buy because “store-bought lemon frosting tastes sad.”
“Mom, we should all get together.”
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Marlene from church stopped by with folding chairs and found me peeling potatoes.
“Debbie,” she said. “You’re making enough food for a wedding. What’s going on?”
“I have eight grandchildren on the way.”
“You also only have one stomach if they don’t show.”
I pointed the peeler at her. “Don’t bring logic into my kitchen.”
She smiled, then softened. “Are you sure about this?”
“No, Marlene. Not at all.”
“Don’t bring logic into my kitchen.”
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“Debbie…”
I wiped my hands on my apron. “That’s the only honest answer I have.”
***
By five, my house was full.
Denise swept in wearing perfume strong enough to bless the hallway. She hugged me hard, but her eyes slipped past me toward the living room.
Carla kissed my cheek and cried. “I’ve missed this house so much.”
“You knew where it was,” I said gently.
Ben handed me grocery-store flowers with the discount sticker still on.
