Jeb tells me that his friend at school thinks I’m a billionaire.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He said, ‘Your mom is a billionaire.’ He thinks you’re rich.”

“Well, you know what?  I feel rich.  I have a healthy and wonderful son…”  Jeb smiles.  “A beautiful house to live in.  And great friends and family.  I’m a wealthy woman.”

He listens to my words while continuing to tie his shoes.

“What did you say when he told you I was a billionaire?”

“I said you weren’t.”

“You did?”

“Well, yeah.  Because you’re not.”

“Right.  Of course.”

Later I squeeze a bounty of citrus gifted by friends.  Filling my glass, I am satiated with sweet treasure.  Liquid gold.

And as night falls, Jeb does homework while I wash Tupperware.  I’ve got three days, five appointments and two pages of ‘to-do’s’ before our trip to California.  Yet there is a peace.  I feel the warm light of my tunnel’s end.  I’m already half-way on vacation.  I’m coasting.

Feeling like a very rich woman indeed.