Centpraise

My son removed me from the family group chat because, as he put it, “Mom, it was for working adults.” I said nothing. I went back to feeding the chickens, checking the fence line, and writing in the little farm notebook they all used to laugh at. One week later, twelve of them arrived with suitcases, meat, coolers, and weekend plans, certain I would leave the key under the flowerpot again. But this time, the gate was locked…