Sixty-three Year Old Widow Refused to Hide Her Gray Hair at Work

was quiet at nine the next morning.

The blue vinyl booth in the back was the same one where my late husband and I used to order the Friday fish fry.

Cynthia was already sitting there, her fingers twisting her engagement ring round and round until the knuckle was red.

“Mom,” she said as I slid into the seat opposite her.

“Well, now, Cynthia,continue reading …