My Son Brought A Nursing Home Brochure To My Birthday Dinner And Thought I Would Break

The cake was lemon.

That was the first insult, and I recognized it as one immediately.

For forty-seven years, Walter bought me a coconut cake from Miller’s Bakery on my birthday. Every year without exception: the lean years when he worked overtime and money was tight, the year the car needed a new transmission and we ate beans for two weeks, and the continue reading …