Gloria comes bounding to the door as I enter the house. "Hello, darling." I bend down with open arms, kiss her cheeks and sweep back her hair. Pleased to find her in a good mood, I pick her up and carry her through the house.
The kitchen is empty. I deposit my bag and sunglasses on the table. There"s movement on the patio and I see Angela on her haunches in her gardening clothes, tending a cactus. Do cacti require that level of maintenance? A sudden churlishness rises up in me. That annoying way she has of keeping occupied with trivial things, a habit that has spilled over from her job as school secretary, her mind filled with myriad little requests and tasks, from a sore knee to a teacher searching for a key to a parent wanting to collect her daughter early. If she stops and reflects she
