Dear Carmen,
I still grab the newspaper every morning out of habit.
First thing I do is flip to the horoscopes and read yours.
You were a Leo. Today it said something about new beginnings. I don't believe it, but I read it anyway.
Then I pull out that old fold-out map from the glovebox. You've got the route from here to your mother's highlighted in yellow marker. We must have driven it a hundred times.
The pool opens today. First day of summer. You used to take the grandkids the very first morning.
I don't go anymore. I just sit on the porch and listen to the splashing.
Some days I catch myself thinking I should call you to tell you about my shift. Then I remember.
So I read your horoscope. And I keep driving that same highlighted route, even when I don't need to.