My Mom Called Asking When I Was Coming Back for the Baby Until I Realized Mine Was Already With Me

believed in routines the way some people believe in luck. Tea at nine. Doors locked by ten. Television off by ten-thirty. She had kept that schedule through illness, through my father’s death, through the particular loneliness of being the kind of mother whose children had grown up and moved somewhere else. She did not drift outside her pattern unless continue reading …