“Mom, are you crying again?”
My oldest daughter stood in the doorway with her hair tied back, concern written across her face.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just remembering.”
“You always say that.”
I returned the picture to its place and forced a smile that felt heavier than ever.
“Because it’s always true. Now come help me. Your brother has a thousand ideas for this pool party, and I need backup.”
She walked over and wrapped her arms around me.
For a few seconds, I allowed myself to lean into the comfort.
Then my son rushed into the kitchen carrying a wrinkled guest list.
“Mom, I want everyone there. The whole family, my friends from school, the neighbors. Everyone.”
“It’s my fifteenth birthday. It’s important.”
