My Mom Gave My Kids Sleeping Bags While My Sister’s Children Took the Guest Room and Something Finally Broke

in the back seat, I finally heard it. Four years late. Right on time.

Rochester: twenty-two miles.

We got home at 1:30 in the morning. Ryan carried Owen. I carried Ellie. Tucked them into their own beds, their own pillows, blankets that didn’t smell like anyone’s basement. I sat on the edge of Owen’s bed and he opened one eye.

“Are we home?”

“Yeah, baby.continue reading …