When I told my mom I was pregnant, she didn't hug me. She didn't even smile. She just went silent, and I wasn't surprised. She had always made it clear that she never wanted grandkids, and I knew that ...
Research shows that people with dementia often harness metaphor to communicate experiences in their desperate bids to remain ...
It took my mother getting Alzheimer’s for my siblings and me to learn the truth about our family and childhood.
Come for the presents. Stay for the baggage.
I love my little nephew. He has a kid-sized broom that he uses to dance around in his diapers to Freddie Mercury songs as if ...
My cat, Harriet, is curled up on the TV console when I walk into the living room. She blinks at me, slowly. Cats blinking at you is supposed to be a sign of affection. I blink back. “Look at you on ...
In 1969, when my mom was an infant, her mother, Amanda, disappeared one day and was never heard from again. “I spent my entire childhood wondering what happened to her,” my mom, Zoyda, explained to me ...
My mother told me she never wanted grandchildren because she'd been raising kids most of her life. When I got pregnant, my mother wasn't excited, and she remained distant. She eventually came around ...
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