The Second Half by Lauraine Snelling

upright. Now to decide what to have. They mounted the steps; she hung up their harnesses and both animals headed to the kitchen for a drink and a treat. Creatures of habit, that was for sure. After washing her hands, she stared into the refrigerator. Leftover chicken casserole, leftover meat loaf and half a baked potato, a salad with chicken on it, a ham sandwich with chips—why did none of that sound good? She pulled out the casserole, the easiest to fix, then slid it back on the shelf. Surely a sandwich. But all she had was white bread. Ugh. Back to the casserole. While her bowl was heating in the microwave, she dug in a box for some crackers and poured a glass of lemonade.
    “Okay, kids, the porch or the family room?” Did she want to watch the river or the weather channel or one of the cooking shows she had saved? Food on a tray, she stopped in the family room and, tray on the table, sank into her recliner. Ken did not particularly like cooking shows, so she’d watch one now. She flicked through the list to Pioneer Woman and clicked on the longest-waiting episode. She’d learned to keep a pad and paper at hand in case there was a recipe or a tip that she’d want to remember. Tray on her lap, she kicked the recliner back and settled in.
    After all, this might be the last evening she had alone in who knew how long, if ever again. Only a year. You will have children here full-time for only a year, maybe even six months. That is not a lifetime.
    Tristan und Isolde. Steig’s song.
    Eagerly she thumbed the phone on. “How far are you?”
    “Halfway up Iowa, and I really need to stop. The kids can swim off some of their energy at a motel, and I can sit on a recliner with a glass of iced tea and watch.”
    “Bad?”
    “Not really, I know I could push on, but…maybe I’ll even go swimming with them.”
    She could hear him thinking that this might be his last chance to play in a pool with his children for a long time.
    “Anyway, we should be there early afternoon tomorrow if we leave at five. Today they slept until after eight.” Even his voice sounded weary.
    “Thanks for letting me know. Dad is still at work, so you can guess what is going on there. Say hello to Melinda and Jakey for me.”
    “See you tomorrow. Oh, by the way, she wants to be called Mellie. Wait. Mellie wants to talk to you.”
    She heard, “Me too, me too,” before Mellie’s voice sparkled, “Hi, Grammy, we get to see you tomorrow.”
    “I know, we’re all ready. Ambrose will be so happy to see you.”
    “Jakey doesn’t like dogs much.”
    Oh, great. Mona closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “Why?”
    “Mommy said dogs are icky and give you germs.”
    “And cats?”
    “He doesn’t like them much either ’cause they scratch.”
    “Well, I guess we’ll just have to teach him that Ambrose and Hyacinth are good friends and not like lots of other animals.”
    “I love ’em both. ’Member when Ambrose pulled me and Arne in the wagon and we got dumped out?”
    “I do, we all laughed so hard and poor Ambrose couldn’t figure it out. We’ll have to see if we can get him to do that again.”
    “I have my bike and Jakey has a three-wheeler. Daddy said we can ride on the path by the river. Do you and Grampy have bikes?”
    “No, but that is a good idea. You ask him about that, okay?”
    “Daddy says I got to hang up; we just turned in to a motel. I love you, Grammy.”
    She heard another “Me too, me too,” as the phone clicked off. So Angela passed her fear of animals on to at least one of her children. And there was a Norwegian elkhound at Marit’s house. They’d better turn Jakey into a dog lover real quick. She texted Steig’s message to Marit and added, Stopping in Iowa. Jakey doesn’t like dogs and cats.
    A few seconds later, one appeared on her phone. Guess we’ll have to take care of that. Have I ever mentioned how not sorry I am that she left?
    Mona hit the smiley face icon on her phone.
    She took her tray into