Daniella called her mother to let her know that her and Abby would be arriving that evening.

“Whats wrong?” She asked

“Whats wrong? A lot mom, all three of us need some time together.”

“I would love to spend time with you but is everything ok?”

“Abby and I are going to take you to Atlantic City for the night. We will leave in the morning spend the day and then the night there.”

“When? Why?”

“Tomorrow morning we are driving there – just us mom.”

“I need some warning, I need to plan in advance, you know I do have a life.”

“I know you do and we want to be more a part of it than we have been.”

Daniella was a little taller than her mom at 5 foot 6, she had reddish blonde hair, light skin and dark eyes framed by soft eye brows and freckles beneath them. She was an easy dressed lady – could have passed as a Gap model with her white collared blouse, blue jeans and uggs. She was not the prettiest looking woman out there but there was a pull which made her seem prettier than she was.

She pulled her mother closer and embraced her.

Abby arrived later that evening – on her cell phone arguing with her husband about something to do with him being late that evening to be with the kids.

“I understand that you work – ok, no problem. Just make sure they all eat dinner, finish their homework and then go to sleep. Three things – I love you. Thank you for this.”

Hearing Abby say “I love you” brought a sense of cheer to Lydia.

Abby gave her mother a long and strong hug as Daniella watched from the kitchen.

“Just like old times.” Her mother whispered.

Daniella joined in the hug and each began to tear up tears of their own recipes.

“These two days are going to be about all three of us, OK?” Abby said.

“What spurred this on?” Lydia asked.

“We both have realized the void in our lives has to do with our being too busy with life but having nothing to do with living.”

The words were spoken, discussed and the memories were dissected. The who, what, why and wheres were not important any longer. There was the now which needed to be grasped.

They spent the evening sleeping, all three of them in the same bed – each taking turns staring at the ceiling, the window aglow with the street lamps and the darkness. Swatting away the ingredients to the tears that were cried earlier.

By the time they drove back to Lydia’s home they had each decided that Lydia would be joining them each weekend. One Sunday by Abby, Daniella and then, at Lydia’s insistence, by Lydia. “Husbands, grandchildren and all.”  Lydia stressed.

The evening when she returned there was a note left under her door handwritten;

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She smiled even though she had to read it several times to decipher it. “Please let me know when you get back. Your Pal, Anthony.”

It was only 7pm so she rode the elevator to his apartment and knocked on the door.

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