She argued with me about that. I won.
The next Thanksgiving, one year later, we had dinner in her new bedroom. Just the two of us. Turkey from the grocery store. Pie from the bakery down the street.
She held up her glass of sparkling cider with a shaky hand.
“To my son,” she said. “Who came home early.”
“To my mom,” I said. “Who’s sleeping in a real bed.”
She laughed so hard she cried.
THE END.
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Sometimes the people who need protecting the most are the ones who apologize for needing it. Check on your parents. Visit early. Ask the hard questions.
What would you have done in Julian’s place that night? Tell us in the replies.
