Stella
“I'm here!" I yell as I throw my stuff down on my parents' couch. Even in my mid-twenties, that hasn't changed. It's what I did when I came home from school every day – kindergarten through twelfth grade – and what I do now every time I walk in.
“I love to hear those words out of your mouth every time you walk in," Mom says as she comes out of the kitchen, holding her arms open for me. “Since both you and Nick moved out, it's lonely around here."
“No Mom, that's why Dad's here," I remind her.
“He's been working crazy hours lately with the implementation of what they hope will be the Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team. I've been hanging out with the girls, but I do miss you." She holds me tightly.
I'm reminded that my mom is older, that even though she's in great shape, does
