Maddie was the teenager other parents loved bringing up when complaining about their own kids.
Straight A’s.
Church volunteer.
Home before curfew.
He simply chose not to be part of it.
She still kissed my cheek on her way out every morning, even if she occasionally did it while stealing toast from my plate.
Frances had been part of our lives almost as long.
They met in kindergarten after Frances accused Maddie of stealing a red crayon.
Frances had been part of our lives almost as long.
Maddie proved it was hers by showing Frances the bite mark she’d put in the wrapper.
For reasons known only to five-year-olds, that made them best friends.
By middle school, Friday nights became a ritual.
Maddie packed the same faded overnight bag she had owned for years.
By middle school, Friday nights became a ritual.
Inside went her pajamas, toothbrush, and phone charger.
