<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Estrangement on Sunday Evening Review</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/estrangement/</link><description>Recent content in Estrangement on Sunday Evening Review</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 25 Apr 2026 06:00:00 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/estrangement/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Since You Asked: The Grown Child Who Stopped Calling</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/letters/since-you-asked-the-grown-child-who-stopped-calling/</link><pubDate>Sat, 25 Apr 2026 06:00:00 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://sundayeveningreview.com/letters/since-you-asked-the-grown-child-who-stopped-calling/</guid><description>&lt;p>&lt;strong>Dear Lorraine,&lt;/strong>&lt;/p>
&lt;p>My son Brian turned forty-one in March. I called him on his birthday, like I always do. It rang five times and went to voicemail. I left a message. He texted back three days later: &amp;ldquo;Thanks Mom, been busy.&amp;rdquo; That was it.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>This has been building for about four years now. The calls got shorter, then less frequent. He used to visit for Thanksgiving with his wife and the boys, but last year they went to her family&amp;rsquo;s instead, and when I said I understood, I meant it, but I also cried in the kitchen after I hung up. The visit before that, the one they did make, they left a day early. Something about the boys&amp;rsquo; soccer schedule. Maybe it was true.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>