My Mother

air smelled like rain and exhaust and freedom.

Lily looked up at me. “Are we going home-home?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Grandma won’t be there?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

The fact that she had to ask nearly broke me.

“I promise.”

At home, everything looked the same and completely different.

Lily’s rain boots by the door. Her cereal bowl in the sink from the morning we rushed continue reading …