My daughter-in-law lifted her glass and said, ‘Some mothers-in-law know how to help in the right ways. Others just make things feel… crowded.’ My son laughed. I smiled and said, “Funny you should mention that—I just secured a place of my own 3,000 kilometers from here. Don’t worry… you won’t have to feel ‘crowded’ by me anymore.”
Her eyes locked on mine, unblinking. “And others,” she finished, voice light, “just take up too much space.” Mason’s laughter exploded first. My son. The boy I carried, the one I raised alone after his father died, the one I worked double shifts for in a small Midwestern town so he could get into a…