My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.
When you stopped, I was angry because suddenly I had to be responsible for my own life.”
I felt tears gathering.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me because I said it once.”
“I forgive you for being imperfect,” I said.
“Trust is what we’ll keep rebuilding.”
He hugged me.
This time his arms were not stiff.
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