After A Holiday Dinner Snub, I Chose To Walk Away

on the sofa, phones in hand, legs draped over armrests.

“I’m here,” I announced.

“Move the car, Vi. You’re blocking the view,” my father said without turning around.

“I parked on the street, Dad.”

“Oh. Well, don’t let the cold in.”

That was my greeting.

In the kitchen, my mother Denise stirred gravy with frantic energy. The room smelled of roasted meat and continue reading …