“Mom, You’re Not Welcome For Christmas,” My Daughter Said Casually. I Didn’t Argue — I Made One Call, And Their Holiday Fell Apart The Next Day. – The Archivist

you do this right when we moved in?”

I read it twice, fingers tightening on the cool metal pole. The old reflex was still there—the urge to explain, to soften, to reassure.

Instead, I scrolled to the notes app where I’d written the script Adele had suggested. “I am not available for this conversation by text or phone. Any concerns about the house can continue reading …