Fourteen months earlier, I had watched her lose her hair in clumps on a hospital pillow.
Now she was practicing how to smile again.
« Mom, do you think it looks okay? Not too shiny? »
« It looks perfect on you. »
Now she was practicing how to smile again.
« You have to say that. You’re my mom. »
I stepped into the room and rested my hands on her shoulders.
Her collarbones were still too sharp beneath my-palms.