I Drove Two Hours With A Cooler

I Drove Two Hours With A Cooler To My Son's House. A Stranger Answered The Door: "Are You The Woman About The Washer?" For six years I made that same drive every other Sunday, with butter beans and cornbread riding on the passenger seat, to the house where my son, his wife, and the two grandchildren I raised were waiting for me. That October the porch swing my husband built was gone, the curtains were gone, and the house had sold eleven days before. They had been gone nineteen days.