I called Mom while I was shopping and asked, “Should I bring chocolate cake or apple pie for Christmas?” – Welcome

back.

The fluorescent lights.

The cake box cutting into my thumb.

Mom’s silence.

Dad saying:

Everything was easier without you there.

I chose the chocolate cake.

When I carried it toward the bungalow that evening, I didn’t need to call anyone and ask whether they wanted me to bring it.

I had been invited.

The front door opened.

Warm air rushed out.

Dinner.

Cinnamon.continue reading …