My Son Started Packing My Barbecue Into Takeout Boxes

mean it like that.”

“How did she mean it?”

More silence.

Then he tried another angle. “Ashley was crying in the car.”

That should’ve moved me. Maybe once it would’ve.

Instead I pictured her snapping lids onto my containers like she was doing me a favor.

I said, “Did she cry before or after she packed up three dinners’ worth of meat?”

“Mom.”

“No, answer me.continue reading …