I STUCK MY HANDS UNDER THE faucet and scrubbed away the remnants of the day. Dirt, hay and horsehair. Such was life in the country, and I loved its wholesome, gritty glory. I’d swept the barn, fed the horses for the night. Time to feed the family. My husband, Mark, was at work. That left my 16-year-old daughter, Haley, and me.
Haley sat at the kitchen counter, her long dark hair obscuring her face. She didn’t even look up from her phone. Seemed like just yesterday she was glued to my side, asking if she could help me peel the potatoes for dinner.
“Are you hungry?” I asked Haley.
“Nah, I ate earlier,” she mumbled.
Teenagers. They ate earlier and slept later. These days, Haley did everything on her own…
