I laughed until I nearly cried.
“Who told you to write that?”
“No one.”
Rebecca looked suspiciously innocent.
Daniel carved the turkey.
Before dinner, he raised his glass.
“I’m not making a speech.”
“That sounds like the beginning of a speech,” Jack said.
“It’s not.”
We waited.
Daniel looked at me.
“Last Thanksgiving, we made a decision for someone else because we told ourselves we knew what was best.”
The room became quiet.
He continued.
“We were wrong.”
I watched his face.
There was no performance in it.
No self-punishment.
Only understanding.
“This year,” he said, “I’m thankful Mom taught us that loving somebody means leaving room for their choices.”
Rebecca raised her glass.
“To Maggie.”
Linda raised hers.
“To boundaries.”
Jack looked confused.
“To turkey.”
Emily shouted, “To Hawaii!”
Everyone laughed.
Even me.
Especially me.
After dinner, the children went inside to choose a movie.
Rebecca followed with plates.
Daniel remained on the patio beside me.
“You know,” he said, “we could actually go to Hawaii together someday.”
I looked at him.
“Are you inviting me?”
“Yes.”
“Or telling me?”
He smiled.
“Inviting.”
“Then I’ll think about it.”
He shook his head.
“You enjoy saying that now.”
