three is a funny number. someone is usually left out.
my father was in chicago this weekend for father/daughter time. so you can guess who was left out there.
at least twice a day while he was here, my father called my mother. he'd fill her in on all the details of what we'd done and, more importantly, what we'd eaten. as is often the case in my family, there were even calls where, in the interim, nothing had occurred but sleeping.
our commitment to overcommunicatng is unrelenting.
so i wasn't too surprised when, not an hour after my father was safely returned to memphis, my mother called me. i was, however, a little surprised when, in bidding me farewell, she said to me: "i've really missed you this weekend. i'm so glad we finally had a chance to catch up."
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