Fast food wasn’t what I’d planned for our Saturday night dinner, but I wasn’t feeling all that inspired. “Hurray!” eight-year-old Olivia cheered when I loaded her and five-year-old Evan into the car to go to the drive-thru.
It was just the three of us, as it had been for the past three months in 2011. When our family had moved from Puerto Rico to Texas to start the new school year, my husband, Mike, stayed behind to oversee the sale of the company he managed. He visited as often as he could, and we kept in touch on the phone, trying to bridge the 2,000 miles
