By the time I arrived at the ballroom entrance, my parents were standing against the wall like strangers at their own daughter’s wedding. The main family table—the one I had personally reserved for them—was completely occupied by my husband’s relatives, all nine seats filled. Family
My mother held her old pearl purse tightly with both hands. My father stood stiffly in his brown suit, the one he had saved up months to purchase, his smile fixed in place like an old injury. MotherhoodJourney Journal
I stared at the table cards.
My parents’ names had disappeared.
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