Around 5, my friend Pennelope calls and suggests stopping over. I tell her that Alexander is studying and taking up the entire living room (my son, with his papers and books, can expand to fill any imaginable space). “That’s ok, we can sit in your room and have our cappuccinos.” I hang up and think of the mindless things I still want to finish before dinner: read a few more pages of my book; talk to Alexander’s grandmother about taking him on some college tours; investigate summer programs for Alexander; and other inconsequential things. I almost call her back to cancel but decide not to.
Soon after P arrives I realize how much better spending time with her is than doing any of the other activities I had planned. I make the cappuccino and we take it to my room. There we sit and talk about all sorts of things. Some frivolous, others not.
P stays about an hour. As she is leaving, she casually says, “Coming over here is a little gift I give myself.” I almost cry. The true gift is what she gives to me.
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