I Came For The Fourth Of July, But My Daughter Said, “Mom, Today We’re Keeping It Very Small—Tyler’s Mom Is Coming. Can We Do Another Day?” I Left Quietly. The Next Day, She Called Me In A Rush BECAUSE…..

Same time as always. Can’t wait to see you. I had smiled when I read it, my heart warming at the thought of spending the holiday with my family.

Jessica, my only child, had been hosting these gatherings for five years now. Ever since she and her husband Tyler bought their sprawling colonial home in the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia, it had become our tradition—one I looked forward to all year. I had immediately texted back.

Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Should I bring my famous apple pie? Of course.

See you at 2:00 p.m. For three weeks, I had planned and prepared. I bought new clothes, a patriotic red blouse and navy slacks that made me feel confident and festive.

I spent hours perfecting my apple pie recipe, the same one my mother had taught me fifty years ago, and that Jessica had always claimed was her favorite. I even bought sparklers for the grandchildren, remembering how Jessica used to love them when she was little. The morning of July 4th, I woke up early, my stomach fluttering with anticipation.

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