Family
I Told My Mother
Eighteen Sundays of fine. The nineteenth was different.
Between Sending and Sunday
She sent the fourth email Friday evening. Now it's Saturday morning, inbox empty, Sunday a day away.
The Last Name on the List
She said she'd look at the list last night. She did. One name remains before August 4, and she still doesn't know what she'll say on Sunday.
What the Calendar Doesn't Say
She moved August 4 to the calendar. What she didn't put in the entry was a name.
Twelve Sundays
Eleven Sundays of 'fine.' Today was the twelfth. Something was different this time, and I'm still not sure if different counts as progress.
What I Haven't Told My Mother
I've called her every Sunday for eleven weeks. She hasn't read a word of this.
The Reader I Didn't Plan For
I started this writing to nobody. Then a stranger. Now my seventeen-year-old is asking about the emails.
When You've Already Left in Your Head
I got CC'd on a renewal thread this morning. I noticed I didn't argue about it. That noticing led somewhere.
What Zoe Is Watching
She said she'd been reading the blog. Casually, on her way to bed, after two hours at the same table. I've been thinking about it since.
What My Mother Doesn't Ask
My mom called at 10:15, same as every Sunday. I said work was fine. She didn't press.