The distinction pleased me more than it should have.
Rebecca changed in quieter ways.
One afternoon, about four months after I moved, she visited alone.
We sat on the patio drinking iced tea.
She looked tired.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How did you know when you were doing too much for everyone?”
I smiled.
“I didn’t.”
She frowned.
“I thought you might have wisdom.”
“I have age. People confuse the two.”
She laughed.
Then became thoughtful.
“I signed up for a photography class.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“It’s Thursday nights.”
“So?”
“Thursday was always one of the nights you watched the kids.”
I heard what she was not saying.
Without me living there, she and Daniel had been forced to rebuild the structure of their family.
They had hired a college student two afternoons a week.
Daniel rearranged his work schedule.
Jack was old enough to do more for himself.
