The door would bang into the dining room table every time we swung it open. I would drag my briefcase in behind me, squeeze into the bedroom with its mauve carpeting, and change down after a long day of teaching and driving home from South Jordan. Once I got back into the kitchen to make dinner, the fridge would start with its singing. Oh, how it loved to sing to us. So, we would get the old meat tenderizer out, open the fridge door, and bang on the inside back of the beast until the singing ended. Above, in the freezer, sat pieces of our wedding cake, leftover from our reception just a couple of months earlier.
It was our first place and it was ours.
This week we helped our son and his fiance prime and paint their apartment they will be moving into next month. As a couple. As a married couple. And I will be a mother-in-law. And I will be happy.