I was making tater tot hotdish again.
Without saying anything, Kaylee turned her laptop so we could both see the screen.
It was the graduation announcement form.
Under the section labeled Parents, she had entered three names.
Jodi Brandt.
Travis Brandt.
Duane Ostrem.
Travis stared at the screen.
Then he removed his reading glasses.
For several seconds, he didn’t speak.
Finally, he reached forward and lightly touched the edge of the laptop.
“You spelled Ostrem correctly,” he said, his voice rough. “Your grandpa will be happy about that.”
Kaylee rolled her eyes affectionately.
“Travis, I’ve known how to spell Grandpa’s name my whole life.”
“I know, Kay.”
She smiled and submitted the form.
Then she turned toward me.
“Mom, is dinner almost ready? I’m starving.”
I laughed.
“Five minutes.”
And we sat down together for another ordinary family dinner.
Nothing about our kitchen had changed.
Same table.
Same chairs.
Same casserole.
But something important was different.
