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While Mama drops in her dime and dials, I stand in the open doorway of the glass phone booth caddy-cornered to Antonio’s Deli. “It’s a long story,” she tells Nate. “Libby and I are going to grab a bite downtown with Cheryl. I’ll fill you in later. . . . Okay.” She tucks her chin then cups a hand over her mouth and the receiver, but I can still hear. “Tomorrow? . . . It’s Easter. We go to Ma’s after church. . . . Okay. What time?” She turns away from me.

During the Easter sermon, Gwen’s mind kept drifting toward the afternoon with Nate. First, the family would have lunch at her parents’ house as always on a holiday. The girls would hunt eggs. Then June and her gang would be off to Nelson’s parents in Asheville, Katie and Barry would head to heaven knows where, and her father would drive Libby to the old family farm at East Fork to spend her Easter school break with Silvia, Gwen’s oldest sister. Sivvy, the gentlest and quietes

Gwen opened Ma’s refrigerator and grabbed the plate of leftovers she’d made for herself. “I’m heading out,” she called to no one in particular as she glanced at her watch. Only two-thirty. She was eager to get back to her apartment even though Nate wouldn’t get there until four. He said his grandmother Harriett wouldn’t allow a soul to leave their family Easter lunch until everyone’s bellies were filled, food put away, kitchen cleaned, and Easter eggs hidden and found.

The next morning, Gwen’s head throbbed. She wasn’t accustomed to drinking and clearly had made those two gin and tonics too strong. Before getting on the bus for work, she downed two Bayers. Only an hour later, as she settled at her desk, she considered taking two more. She rubbed her temples to ease the pain, but more to soothe her dread. If Grant made his usual Monday morning appearance, she’d need her wits about her.

Childhood is characterized by an endless stream of 'firsts,' periods of profound learning and discovery that lend a unique thrill to life. But when adults resist embracing the beginner's mindset, how does that hold us back?

One woman attending the retreat was an intuitive, who was offering readings to those of us who wanted them. Mine was scheduled for Sunday, right before our departure. She invited me outside on the deck for privacy, pulled two chairs together, and sat. Before my butt was in the other chair, she said something so matter-of-factly, I nearly fell off the deck.