I’ve been on the phone with my mother for sixty straight minutes, and I’ve said approximately six words. Most of which are one syllable; half of which could be replaced by a hmm or even a caveman-like grunt. The signal to my phone has dipped in and out, but no worries because no matter how long the gap of silence lasts, she’s still there. Still talking. The Bluetooth in my car is both a blessing and a curse. I jam the clutch into the floorboard of my faithful Corolla and shift into fourth. The last ferry to the San Juan Islands leaves in just twenty-three minutes, but thanks to the pokey Golden Years tour bus, I might not make it aboard the punctual sea vessel. My only hope to salvage the worst summer of my life. “…Your dad and I have also agreed on the holidays. We want to make this as easy as possible on everyone. We’re thinking you can spend Thanksgiving break with your dad since Grandma Sanders would be heartbroken if you didn’t show up for her big hoopla…and well, you know, she’s only going to be around for so long.
