I Asked the Waiter to Split the Check

then in ketchup again because six-year-olds are anarchists.

My mother watched them with this strange expression. Sad, yes. But also almost hungry herself, and not for food.

She ordered meatloaf.

I hadn’t seen my mother order what she wanted in years. At family dinners with Dad she always got soup or salad or “just a bite of yours, Richard.” Like wanting continue reading …