I Retired to Rest, Then My Daughter Drafted Me Into Motherhood Again

out except air and shame.

Jessica looks past me, over my shoulder.

At the huge movie poster in the glass case.

A cartoon hero mid-flight.

A title in big shiny letters.

She reads it, then looks back at me like she’s trying to match two puzzle pieces that don’t want to fit.

“You said you were at the imaging place,” she whispers.

I don’t correct her. I don’t continue reading …