My son hit me last night, and I said nothing. The next morning, I draped my lace tablecloth over the table, prepared a full Southern breakfast, and brought out the fine china as though it were a celebration.

breakfast — biscuits, sausage gravy, buttered grits, scrambled eggs, and perfectly cooked bacon. I arranged the china we reserve only for Christmas and Easter.

Daniel came down late, hoodie pulled up, phone in hand. The aroma of food brought a smile to his face.

“So you finally learned,” he said, dragging out a chair. “Guess continue reading …