My Parents Arrived With Suitcases Like My Apartment Was Already Theirs

it in the parking garage outside my office. It was ninety-eight degrees. My steering wheel had branded a line into my palm. And there they were, planning wine-country tours and river cruises, not even bothering to invent a reason I wasn’t included.

They didn’t call because they knew the answer.

I would’ve asked practical questions.

What visas?

What budget?continue reading …