The Seat They Stole From My Son’s Mother

“Ma’am,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. The front seats are occupied. You’ll have to stand in the back.”

I looked past him.

Past the sea of blue graduation gowns.

Past the proud families carrying flowers and balloons.

Straight to Row B.

Seats four and five.

My seats.

The seats my son had personally reserved for me.