“After the two-hour drive to our summer house in Connecticut, my mom and I were lounging around in our bathrobes on the loveseat in the kitchen. We’d picked up our traditional latte and croissant combo from Tartine and had the whole spread laid out on a silver tray. “You know, darling,” my mom said, dipping a tiny edge of a buttery croissant into her coffee, “at first I was disappointed that your father forgot to mention his golf tournament in Maui this weekend. But now that we’re here together,... I’m so glad to have a girls’ weekend with you.” I squeezed her hand and watched an owl roosting in one of the giant pine trees on our property. It felt like it had been a long time since I’d been up here, since I’d seen any bird besides a Central Park pigeon. I’d forgotten how good it felt to get away from the rush of city life and just chill out. “I’m glad to have a girls’ weekend, too.” I said. “I wish February had been able to join us.” My mom furrowed her brow, which I knew was against her dermatologist’s orders.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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