Perkin’s on the main drag of Rapid City, South Dakota

My Aunt Barb and I eat breakfast in the Perkin’s on the main drag of Rapid City, South Dakota. Our last breakfast here.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

“We’re taking you to Boston to be near your son,” I answer for the tenth time this morning.

Aunt Barb sips her bottomless cup of coffee.

Andy Gibb’s Shadow Dancing plays soft on the speakers. I dance in the booth, smile.

“Mark loved this song,” I say.

“Who?” she’s baffled, puts her coffee cup on the table. Empty.

Mark’s her son but I don’t say that. I grab her hand instead.

“We’ve got a lot of memories, don’t we, Barb?”

Her hand gives me a squeeze.

“We sure do,” she answers, “I just wish I could remember the goddamn things.”

Aunt Barb can still joke.

I slide a twenty on the table, help her stand.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I encourage as she slides her bone thin arms into her Liz Claibourne sweater, “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

She turns to me confused, “What are we doing again?”

I lean into her to give her a hug before I continue.

Perkins on the main drag of Rapid City. It is time to leave.