Michelle came on Wednesday afternoon.
I knew it was her before I looked out the window.
Her car made a familiar sound when she turned into the little space beside the house.
I put down the dish towel and went to open the door.
Sadie was already unbuckling herself in the back seat.
The moment Michelle opened the door, she called out.
"Grandma!"
I barely had time to step onto the porch before she came running toward me.
I bent down and caught her.
She wrapped both arms around my neck.
For a moment, I forgot every difficult conversation I'd had with her mother.
I smelled the shampoo in her hair.
I felt her little shoes bump against my legs.
I held her longer than I usually did.
"I missed you," I whispered.
"I missed you, too."
Then she pulled away and looked at the house.
"Is this where you live now?"
"It certainly is."
She studied the front door.
"Can I see inside?"
I laughed.
"That's why I opened the door, sweetheart."
Michelle stood behind her, holding a small bag.
She looked tired, but she smiled when our eyes met.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hello, honey. Come in."
I stepped aside.
Sadie hurried into the living room as though she had been invited to inspect an important building.
She looked at the sofa, the little table, and the photograph of Dale on the shelf.
Then she spotted the kitchen.
"Grandma, you have your own kitchen!"
"I do."
"And your own bathroom?"
"That, too."
She looked impressed.
I hadn't realized how much I wanted her to see the house until I watched her walk through it.
This was where I slept.
This was where I made my coffee.
This was where I could sit quietly when I wanted to.
I wanted my granddaughter to understand that my life hadn't ended because I moved away from her mother's house.
Michelle followed me into the kitchen.
She placed the bag on the counter.
"I brought some things for you," she said.
Inside were a few groceries and a loaf of bread.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
She said it without any sharpness.
I thanked her and put the groceries away.
Sadie came back from the bedroom.
"Grandma, why is your bed in this house instead of our house?"
The question stopped me.
Children don't always know which questions are difficult.
Sometimes they ask them because they genuinely want to understand.
I crouched beside her.
"Because this is the house I chose for myself."
She frowned.
"But you can still come to our house?"
"Of course I can."
"And I can come here?"
"Anytime your mother brings you."
She seemed satisfied.
Then she ran toward the porch.
I looked at Michelle.
She had heard every word.
"I was afraid she'd think I didn't want to see them anymore," I said.
Michelle shook her head.
"She never thought that."
"How do you know?"
"She kept asking when you were coming back."
I looked down at the groceries.
That hurt.
It also relieved me.
At least Sadie hadn't decided that Grandma had disappeared because she no longer cared.
Michelle leaned against the counter.
"I should have brought them sooner."
I didn't answer right away.
I wanted to say yes.
I also wanted to avoid making the visit another discussion about who had made the bigger mistake.
So I told her the truth.
"I'm glad you're here now."
She nodded.
We heard Sadie calling from the porch.
"Grandma, come see the trucks!"
I went outside with her.
A grain truck was waiting near the elevator, and another had pulled in behind it.
Sadie stood beside the swing, watching them move.
"Why do they have to wait?" she asked.
"Because everyone has to take a turn."
She considered that.
Then she climbed onto the swing and held out her hand.
I sat beside her.
The chains creaked.
Michelle watched us from the doorway.
For a while, the three of us didn't need to discuss anything.
Sadie told me about a picture she'd drawn at home.
She described the colors in great detail, though I couldn't always follow what she meant.
She told me what she'd eaten for lunch.
She told me her brother had taken a toy and refused to give it back.
These were ordinary things.
I listened as if they were important.
Because they were.
I had spent ten days missing the small details of their lives.
Now I was hearing them again.
After a while, Sadie leaned against my arm.
"Grandma, are you staying here forever?"
I looked toward Michelle.
My daughter had gone very still.
I could have given Sadie a simple answer.
I could have said yes, or no, or that we would see.
Instead, I told her what I knew.
"I'm planning to stay here for a long time, sweetheart."
She looked at the house.
"Good. I like your swing."
I smiled.
"So do I."
Michelle came to sit on the other side of her.
We watched the trucks together.
I wondered whether my daughter was thinking about the basement.
I wondered whether she was comparing the room she'd offered me with the little house I had chosen.
But I didn't ask.
The visit wasn't the time to demand another apology.
We were sitting together.
That was enough for that afternoon.
When they were ready to leave, Sadie hugged me again.
She asked whether she could visit the next week.
I told her I would be happy to see her.
Michelle helped her into the car.
Before closing the door, she turned back toward me.
"Thank you for letting us come."
I looked at her.
"You don't have to thank me for visiting your mother."
She gave a small smile.
"I suppose I don't."
After they drove away, I stood on the porch.
The swing moved slightly in the breeze.
I had expected the visit to make me feel better.
It did.
It also made me aware of how much I'd missed while we were apart.
I went inside and put the extra cup back in the cupboard.
Then I sat down at the kitchen table.
For the first time in nearly two weeks, I wasn't waiting for the phone to ring.
I was thinking about the next visit.
That felt different.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Michelle Asked Whether I Would Ever Consider Living With Them Again, and I Finally Told Her What I Needed Instead
The Number My Son-in-Law Circled Twice and the Question I Was Too Afraid to Answer at My Daughter’s Table
Part 9 of 20
