Quitting Time
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     It was dinnertime when I called over to my parents’ house last night.

     “We just sat down,” Mom informed me. “May I call you back?”

     “I’ll make it quick,” I said. “I’m hoping you can find my old backpack. It might be in the attic.”

     “Oh, dear,” she said. “Is this about you moving onto our property?”


     She cupped the phone, and I heard her say to my father, “No, he’s not coming to live on the property.”



     “This is about the backpack, not living in your woods.&rdqu...

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