My parents' final night in town, we go out to celebrate. I come from a long line of boisterous folks, and when my family and I get together, it tends to get loud, to the point that maybe some people at the tables close to us might have given us a look (or two).
Afterwards, when we've gotten in the cab and are hurtling down Atlantic Avenue toward home, my mom pipes up, "I said goodbye to that lady who kept turning around to look at us, and she smiled and waved."
"She used all her fingers to wave, too, not just her middle one," she adds with obvious relish.
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