After a family dinner, while I was cleaning up in the kitchen, my daughter-in-law leaned close and whispered, “You old witch, I only tolerate you because of my husband.” I laughed it off and replied, “Don’t worry, you won’t be seeing me anymore.” The very next day, I had the locks on the house changed and… – Reading Times

My daughter in law, Melinda, drank only coffee from capsules and always wrinkled her nose at my tea. While the water boiled, I started mixing batter for waffles.

My son, Phillip, had loved them since childhood. Even now, in the middle of everything, I made them every Saturday.

Maybe it was my quiet way of clinging to a single thread of the past when we were a real family. A faint creak from the back of the apartment signaled that Jace, my youngest grandson, was awake.

At fourteen, he was already taller than I was, with lanky limbs and tangled dark hair. His eyes were perpetually hidden behind long bangs and oversized headphones.

I told him good morning and said that waffles would be ready in fifteen minutes. He merely nodded without bothering to remove his headphones and slumped into a kitchen chair with his tablet glowing in front of him.

I had stopped taking his behavior personally a long time ago. At least he did not snap at me the way his older sister, Skyler, sometimes did.