Kandace
When Molly and I walk into the house, we are met with the delicious aroma of garlic and my mother standing at the counter chopping fresh vegetables for a large salad. As Mom turns our way, I rest my hand on Molly's shoulder. “Honey, go take your bookbag up to your room."
For a moment, I watch as my daughter heads toward the back stairs. As soon as Molly is too far away to hear, I walk toward my mother—the woman with the smirk and twinkle in her eyes. “Why?" I ask.
“Why, what?"
“He's leaving tomorrow."
“That's what he said. He also said he'd be back."
I cross my arms over my breasts and lean against the counter. “He's said that before."
“Well, it took him a while," Mom says as she hands me a slice of fresh cucumber, “but you have to admit, he's back."
Plopping the cucumb
