I looked around the table.
I want to go to Rome.
Clare smiled immediately.
Then go.
I also want to finish the rose garden.
Do it, Daniel said.
I want to take watercolor classes.
Lauren laughed.
Obviously.
And I hesitated.
There is someone I’ve met.
Everyone went silent.
Jordan’s eyebrows lifted.
Someone?
I laughed.
Don’t look so alarmed.
Who?
His name is Caleb.
Clare smiled.
Tell us about him.
I described the watercolor class, the terrible paintings, his bad jokes, the way he listened.
When I finished, nobody looked uncomfortable. Nobody asked whether he had money. Nobody asked whether he owned a house.
Jordan simply smiled.
He sounds nice.
He is.
Lauren reached across the table.
You deserve nice.
That sentence nearly broke me because for years I had believed being needed was the highest form of love.
Now I was learning that being known was better.
After dinner, Clare helped me wash dishes.
Mom.
Yes.
I keep thinking about that night at the wooden spoon.
So do I.
I wish we’d invited you.
I know.
I don’t think we realized how much that would hurt.
I don’t think you did.
She dried a plate.
Would you have come?
I smiled.
If you’d asked.
She nodded.
Then I want to ask now.
For what?
To be part of our future.
I looked at her.
She continued.
But not because we need money.
I know.
Because you’re family.
I put the dish down.
Then I hugged her.
The next morning, I opened my laptop.
I searched flights to Rome.
For years, I had been afraid to even look. The prices seemed enormous. The distance seemed impossible.
But this time, I booked one.
I stared at the confirmation email.
Rome, the 14th of October.
I printed it.
Then I put it beside Richard’s photograph.
I finally did it, I whispered.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
It was Jordan.
Mom, thank you for yesterday.
I replied.
Thank you for asking me to be there.
His answer came quickly.
We should have asked years ago.
I smiled.
Maybe they should have, but I had also spent years teaching them that my answer would always be yes. They hadn’t been born knowing how to depend on me. I had taught them.
And now together, we were learning something new.
That afternoon, Caleb called.
Did you book it?
How did you know?
You’ve been talking about Rome for 3 weeks.
I laughed.
Yes.
When?
October.
He paused.
Good.
You’re not going to ask how much it cost.
No.
Why?
Because you finally learned something.
What?
That your dreams aren’t expenses.