“I reserved your seat myself. I taped a card on it with your name.”
“Okay, baby. Front row. I promise.”
He grinned, drank a glass of milk, and went back to bed.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen for a long moment, then I walked to the closet and pulled out the navy dress I had been saving since Christmas.
I plugged in the iron and ran it across the fabric, smoothing every wrinkle.
I had bought a bouquet, too. Yellow roses, his favorite color since he was four.
“Okay, baby. Front row. I promise.”
They were waiting in the fridge in a glass of water.
I let myself imagine walking into that auditorium with my head up.
Sitting in the chair my son had reserved for me with his own hands.
Hearing his name called and knowing he would look down and find me right there.
I smiled at the dress on the ironing board, and I let myself feel hopeful. I had no idea someone else had other plans.
