By noon, I discovered where everyone had gone. Shannon had posted photographs from Lake Delwood, the family cottage near Minocqua where we had spent nearly every summer of our childhood. Colin was jumping off the dock, Mom was relaxing beneath her white sun hat, and Nate was grilling bratwurst. Then I saw Shannon’s caption across a group photograph: “Best trip ever when she’s not around. LOL.” More than three hundred people had already seen it. I read the words repeatedly, then quietly washed my coffee mug. I didn’t comment or call anyone. I simply carried the watering can toward my mother’s tomatoes, stopped, and realized something important. Every machine had an off switch. For the first time in seven years, I had found mine. I left the tomatoes unwatered.
Instead, I drove to Grandma Ida’s bungalow in West Allis. At eighty-six, she was still independent, but she had apparently been excluded from the trip too. She welcomed me inside, and we made scrambled eggs together. During breakfast, she mentioned that my mother had visited on Thursday carrying two casseroles and her church folder. Then a notification appeared on Grandma’s iPad, which I had originally set up using Shannon’s account. It was a shared calendar reminder: “Ron Fairbanks: Cottage, Monday, 10:30 a.m.” I recognized the name immediately. Ron was a real estate agent. Suddenly, the family vacation looked like something very different.
THE STORY CONTINUES ON THE NEXT PAGE… 👇👇👇
