Perpetual Break

My daughter is coming to town tomorrow. I’m a little anxious. I’ve roasted chicken this way countless times.

It’s been a while since I have seen her. Dana is going to vacuum till I go crazy.

Adult kids judge. I don’t want to care, but I do. Am I afraid of my children? It seems I am. I’m not afraid of them, I’m afraid of me. I walk gently.

When my girls were young, it was grind, grind, grind. Tuition. Now they think they are smarter than me.

I remember correcting my parents. Looking back, what an idiot I was. My girls are smarter than me. What a relief.

The chicken was delicious. The house was cleaned to surgical standards. My girls are grown women. At dinner, we have adult conversations. I sit across the table from them. I see them as my children, but the words aren’t childlike.

Dinner is over. I have adult children.