After the funeral, he sat at the yellow kitchen table with me.
Ezoic
In the breakfast nook his father built.
“Mom,” he said. “You shouldn’t live alone.”
“I’m fine, Daniel.”
“You’re seventy,” he said. “This house is old. The roof needs work. The air conditioning’s twenty years old. What if you fall? What if something happens and nobody’s here?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Move in with us,” Daniel said. “For a while. Just until you’re ready.”
He took my hand.
“Renee está de acuerdo”, dijo. “A los niños les encantaría. Tenemos la habitación. La casita en la piscina. Tiene su propio baño. Su propia entrada”.
Ezoico
Él me apretó la mano.
“Just until you’re ready, Mom,” he said.
I believed him.
I sold the house on East Linden Street.
I sold my yellow kitchen.
My six rose bushes.
The porch with the wobbly ceiling fan.
