by Lorinda Boyer | Nov 27, 2025 | Poem, Substack
As is always true, I’m the last to show. My brother yells out a snarky, “Hello!” My sister’s eyebrows rise in disapproving accusation. While dad sleeps in his recliner, deep in relaxation. Waving my hand in feigned greet, I head straight to the table, my usual seat....
