On the Road
The monthly trips to L.A. were wearing Philip down. He used his unfamiliarity with the rental car to keep from thinking about why he and his mother were once again on the road, once again weaving through heavy freeway traffic from the airport to their dismal hotel. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her searching through her purse. Misplacing things was now a common occurrence.
“Mom, you didn’t forget anything? Your house keys? Medicare or Medical cards?”
“Nope. They’re all here. I was looking for…here it is.” She held up a silver Coptic cross, a memento of their African travels many years in the past. Back when he was a twenty-year-old Peace Corps teacher and she’d joined him in Addis Ababa near the end of his teaching contract. She always said the cross kept them safe
