my father.
Seventy-four years old.
Excluded from Thanksgiving by his daughter-in-law.
Still complimenting her pie.
My phone had been buzzing most of the afternoon.
Karen called several times.
Don called twice, which was unusual because he had never called me directly in twelve years.
By late afternoon, Karen’s messages had changed from anger to worry.
I stayed with Dad until evening.
When I left, I hugged him and promised to return Saturday to check the garage.
He told me to bring a decent lunch because he was tired of sandwiches.
