My Son Demanded Rent at Christmas Dinner

needles onto the rug Frank and I bought in Lancaster in 1986.

“You didn’t mind everybody on Christmas.”

His mouth closed.

The lock gave.

We went in.

The house smelled stale. Turkey grease. Pine. Melissa’s cinnamon candles fighting a losing war.

I walked room to room with a list.

My cedar chest.

Frank’s fishing rods.

My recipe box.

The blue mixing bowl with the continue reading …