“Vanessa, honey, are you sure? That kind of resort isn’t cheap.”
“Donald actually suggested it,” she said. “He said, ‘Mom deserves this. Bring her along.'”
That was the sentence that undid me.
My son. My Donald. The little boy who used to fall asleep on my lap during the late news had thought of me. He’d said out loud that I deserved something.
I pressed the phone against my cheek and didn’t say anything for a moment because I didn’t want my DIL to hear my voice crack.
