“And I’m sorry for not being more thoughtful about your time. We should have let you know we were coming and worked with your schedule.” She looked down at her hands and then over at me. “We did it again this time, but I just couldn’t handle the way we’d left things.”
Mom reached over and took my hand, and I felt the tears pool in my eyes. She had not held my hand in a very long time. I gave her fingers a squeeze.
“I haven’t been,” she looked over at Dad, “we haven’t always been very good at understanding what you do and why you do it. You’re very different than I am. I know you know that. You just don’t want the same things I want, the things I wanted for you. It’s taken me a long time to realize that. I’m sorry.”
I was crying for real now. “I’m sorry, too, Mom. I tried for a long time
