Eleanor
I had just pulled my hair into a loose ponytail and slipped into my nightshirt when I heard the knock against the door of my room.
It was soft, hesitant; three short taps that barely echoed past the doorframe, and I knew that was certainly not Matt’s knock. It wasn't Dad’s either. It was my mother. I could always tell.
I turned toward the door and called out, “Come in.” I was standing there with my hand bunched against the material of my clothes, waiting for her to come in.
The door creaked open, and sure enough, there she was… Mom, with her hands clasped together and that tired, thoughtful look on her face. She stepped inside gently, like she didn’t want to disturb anything, even the air in the room, as if that was possible.
“Hey, Mom,” I said with a smile as I sat on the
