breakfast by myself.
I joined a watercolor class.
I sat with strangers and listened to their lives.
Nobody asked what I could do for them.
They simply asked my name.
“Theresa.”
And that was enough.
Two months into the cruise, Austin called.
I answered.
“Mom.”
His voice sounded different.
Softer.
“I wanted to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I went to Dad’s grave.”
I remained silent.
“I hadn’t gone since the funeral.”
My throat tightened.
“What did you say to him?”
Austin exhaled.
“I told him I was sorry.”
I stared
