My Son Said I’d Be Taking The Bus—Until I Opened The Glovebox

” but really it’s friendship. We have coffee at the diner near the courthouse. We talk about Rob—the funny things, the stubborn things, the way he used to argue with the sprinkler system like it was a contractor who’d cut corners. Sometimes we talk about nothing at all, which is a luxury only old friends can afford.

Some mornings I drive to work the continue reading …