is a small apartment sized blonde wood rectangle with four
chairs.
I sit down across from Tildy. She sets her arms on the
table and scowls. She’s unhappy with not getting the answer to
her question. It’s a little bit scary for me to think that kids now
can just go on the internet and find all the answers they need.
They don’t even need to spell or know how to read most of the
time, since they can just dictate to their tablet. I suppose it can
be a great thing and a bit of a terrible thing. I can understand
why parents sometimes fear technology when it comes to their
children’s health and safety.
Adley comes into the room carrying three huge bowls
of mac and cheese. It smells divine. I can’t believe she just
whipped that up from scratch. Nothing that looks this gooey
and cheesy and amazing ever came from a packet or a box.
“Tell you what,” Adley says to a sulky Tildy. “If you
eat at least half of that, we can play Memory after with the
cards and then we can get out the board games. You can take
your pick! And then we’ll watch a movie and maybe have ice
cream. But only if you eat. And stop pouting.”
Board games, movies, and ice cream must be a magic
combination, because Tildy snaps out of it, grabs her fork, and
starts shoveling macaroni into her mouth.
I pick up my fork and start eating without looking up.
It’s delicious. I can’t look at either Tildy or Adley because my
eyes are a little bit stingy. She has no idea what this means to
me. Being here. Being a part of her life. How much all of this
has meant. I just need to have a moment, then I’ll be back to
smiling and happy and back to getting my butt kicked at cards.
It’s probably the most fun I’ve ever had losing at