The Calls That Should Have Been Enough
Arthur sat at the kitchen table, mimicking his late wife’s holiday routine. He dialed his daughter, Sarah, first.
“We’re having dinner as a family today! Don’t be late. I’m not running a restaurant, but I am judging,” he teased.
Sarah, a high-powered lawyer, laughed. “You sound just like Mom, Dad. I’ll try to be there.”
Then came Michael, his eldest. “I made your favorite potatoes. If you don’t come, I’ll eat them all myself.”
“We’ll try, Dad,” Michael promised.
Finally, the grandkids—Emma and Jake. They were “maybe” votes, busy with the chaotic social lives of twenty-somethings. Arthur hung up with a hopeful heart. A “maybe” was better than a “no.”
By 4:00 PM, the house smelled divine. The aroma of yeast and roasted poultry filled the rooms, masking the scent of dust and old memories. Arthur moved to the window, watching for the headlights of his children’s cars.
