“To who?”
“Anybody.”
“First week, every time we had an open riding slot, she’d give it away.”
Mia protested. “Some girls had never ridden.”
The counselor folded her arms.
“Neither had you.”
“I didn’t mind waiting.”
The woman looked directly at her.
“I didn’t ask whether you minded missing it, Mia.”
My daughter went quiet.
The same phrase landed on me differently.
I didn’t ask whether you minded missing it.
“I didn’t mind waiting.”
How many times had I heard Mia say that?
“I don’t mind.”
“I don’t care.”
“Either one is fine.”
“Get the cheaper one.”
“You can go without me, Mom.”
“Grandma can come.”
“Don’t leave work early.”
I had always called it maturity.
Now I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.
I had always called it maturity.
***
Denise thanked the counselor and guided us toward another part of camp.
I stopped walking.
“Mia.”
She stopped too.
