Keep the Suitcase Open
Mama needed a weekend.
She left lasagna in the oven, instructions on the counter, and her departing words on the doorstep.
Mama needed a day without pearls.
She packed only two outfits for her trip and secretly took pleasure in the wrinkles and creases. She wouldn't touch an iron for a while.
Mama needed to wake up one morning without the boys.
She drove quietly with the windows down. She left the radio off, humming instead with the engine.