“I asked Kenneth to take you,” I said.

“He has work.

You know that.”

“I had something important to do.”

“What could be more important than family?”

I looked around the kitchen: the medication chart on the fridge, the appointment calendar written in my handwriting, the groceries I had paid for, and the papers Kenneth had left on the counter.

“Being part of a family doesn’t mean I’m never allowed to take care of myself,” I answered.

Her face registered genuine surprise.