“The ceremony at the harbor,” my mother said.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t be.”
She nodded at the far wall.
For the first time, I turned and read the banner I had walked past all morning.
THANK YOU, CAPTAIN ROSANNE CAVANAUGH.
34 YEARS AT SEA.
It was her retirement.
It was her last arrival.
She had signed the papers in August, and she had told the board she would step off the Seaborn Vista on the final Friday of the season.
She had asked them to keep it quiet until she could tell me herself.
“I was going to tell you tonight, over dinner,” she said.
“I was going to tell you I’m coming home.”
“I missed your tenth birthday.”
“Your first dance.”
“Your graduation from nursing school.”
“I told myself I was building you a life.”
“And I did.”
“But I wasn’t there, Shannon.”
