Morning at mom’s
Mom and Jeremy are settled comfortably in her warmly lit living room when I arrive up the steep gravel drive sometime after dark.
“Would you like some pot roast?” mom offers after greetings.
“No thanks,” I answer. “I snacked a lot — probably later.”
It was only a few days before our usual Labor Day weekend time slot when we arrived at a workable ride plan. We hustled to gather supplies and prepare bikes. We didn’t hear much from Jesse until finally in our group chat — “Sorry guys but I’m not able to go this year.” The ride was to be a day short; now also a brother short.