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.