My mom entered my childhood bedroom on Saturday morning as she often does: before 8am, and with an announcement.
“In these uncertain times…” is a phrase I’m really starting to hate. “Now more than ever…” is another group of words I’d like to punch in the face.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the day everything changed. When it became clear there was going to be a before and an after, and we realized that we were suspended somewhere in between.
Nana has survived some shit. This, we have always known. It explains her morbidly optimistic outlook, her incredible ability to move forward in the face of adversity, and much of our family’s collective neuroses. But how did she do it?