The Art of Goodbye
The house is empty again. Empty, but not quiet, because my 13-year-old son has left the radio on in his bedroom and his Pandora station playing in the office. I can hear both from where I stand by the front door, a cacophony of nonsensical sound. With my hand still on the doorknob, I catch one last glimpse of him in the passenger seat as the car pulls out of the driveway, his wild curls reminding me he’s overdue for a haircut. I wave, even though he’s looking the other way, then turn to survey the mess left behind in his wake. Books and games and toys on the...
Read More