son had used it with me.
But I wasn’t turning around.
“Take care of Chloe,” I said.
Then I ended the call.
For the first time in forty years, I switched off my phone.
At the Port of Miami, I boarded the ship with one suitcase and grief I no longer felt obligated to apologize for.
A young crew member greeted me.
“Traveling alone, ma’am?”
I glanced back toward the city.
“Yes.”
For once, the word didn’t sound lonely.
It sounded free.
—
Three days later, I stood on my cabin
