My Son Invited Me on a Family Beach Vacation

that my nails looked “so Florida.” Brad, who was three and firmly against shirts with buttons, ran circles around my mailbox.

Only Matt stayed quiet. He helped load my suitcase, but kept glancing at his father, then at me, then down at the pavement.

That stayed with me.

The drive was long, but I didn’t mind. I watched the mountains flatten into unfamiliar continue reading …