The next morning, I called the clinic to confirm my next follow-up appointment.
Then I called Michael.
“Are you busy?”
“I’m at work, Mom. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I have an appointment next week, and I wanted to ask whether you could take me.”
There was a pause.
Then he laughed softly.
“Of course I can.”
“Good. And Michael?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for not letting me hide.”
His voice became quiet.
“You don’t ever have to hide from me, Mom.”
After we hung up, I sat at the kitchen table and watched the sunlight move across the floor.
At seventy-nine, I had not discovered a miracle growing inside my body.
I had discovered a medical problem that needed attention, a secret that had changed the way I remembered my husband, and a truth about myself that I wished I had learned much earlier.
I was allowed to say no.
