Missing You

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

They would sit around the table, in tan pants and button-downs. And they would tell me about the plan. And argue about the plan. And I would sit, serenely. Listening. Bending, when need be. And ultimately, nodding. Saying "Yes, this is what we will do. It will be done. You will do your part." And they would, ultimately, nod and say "Yes. Despite all my arguments, despite my enthusiasm one way or another, I agree."

Then we would shuffle in a bundle out the door. Chit chat and empty coffee cups. Maybe head on down to the bar for a drink or over to that Chinese place. I would tug my Citibank card from my wallet, the one with no limit, to pay.

Or sometimes a vendor would, waggling his fingers at me to say he had the tab. No worries.

At the front door, home, I would kick off my heels. One, then the other. Never pantyhose or nylons. I would drop my laptop bag with a soft thud. Scoop my hair up into a scrunchie.

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