The night before our first real road trip in 30 years, I got an email: CANCELED. I called my husband. ‘What happened?’ He said, ‘I canceled it. My sister needs you to watch her kids.’

No work.

No responsibilities.

Just Daniel and me.

I had reserved every hotel.

Planned every stop.

Saved for almost a year.

For decades, Daniel had called me “the organized one.”

It sounded flattering, but what it really meant was that I handled everything he preferred not to think about.

His mother’s appointments.

Melissa’s emergencies.