Eventually, one of Mom’s favorite songs comes through the speakers. She hums along as her chair squeaks from the rocking motion. I set my tea down and stand up to face her. “Dance with me?” She looks shocked. “Oh honey, you don’t have to do that.” We both know that it’s an unspoken rule in the house that when this song plays on the radio, Dad is supposed to stop whatever he’s doing and dance with her. He’s at an auction a few towns over, not here to keep up with his end of the deal. So I decided to take his place. “Mom,” I say with a smirk. “This is your favorite song. Let’s dance.”
Thats so sweet!!
