Small comments. Suggestions.
Margaret, my friend Linda’s mother just moved into Sun City Grand. She loves it. They have a pool and a golf course and bingo.
Mom, have you thought about what you want to do long-term? You know, for your own independence?
Margaret, the kids are getting older. Chloe needs her own space. Maybe we could use the casita as a teen room.
Questions about retirement communities.
Brochures left on the kitchen counter. Encore at Desert Ridge. Vi at Silverstone. The Palms at Scottsdale.
Remarks about needing more space as the children grew older.
Every conversation pointed in the same direction.
I noticed. I’m not stupid.
But I didn’t say anything.
I was waiting.
To see if my son would say it to my face.
That night, the conversation finally arrived.
It was a Thursday in October.
I’d made roast chicken. Harold’s favorite. With lemon and rosemary and little red potatoes around the edges. The way his mother used to make it.
