Her voice broke.
“Yes.”
For the first time in years, my mother didn’t have an argument ready.
She simply admitted that she had been wrong.
We arranged for her to visit the following Sunday.
I spent most of Saturday worrying about how it would go.
Ethan told me not to worry.
“She can apologize if she’s ready. We don’t have to force anything.”
“What if she starts criticizing the house?”
“Then I’ll show her the loose stone on the walkway.”
I laughed despite myself.
“What if she starts criticizing you?”
He shrugged.
“Then I’ll remind her that I’m the man who fixed the roof.”
I leaned against him.
“You make everything sound so easy.”
“No,” he said. “I just don’t want us to spend the rest of our lives waiting for someone else to approve of what we’ve built.”
On Sunday afternoon, Mom arrived carrying a small paper bag.
She stood on the front steps for several seconds before knocking.
