about it.
Something opened.
The book spread the way grief spreads once it finds words.
Mother to mother.
Group chat to group chat.
Through the online places where women my age live their real lives.
It reached one bestseller list.
Then another.
Bookstores reordered it.
Letters began arriving.
Hundreds.
Women who had slept in hospital chairs while relatives stayed home.
Women who had been told to deal with it.
Women who had carried something unbearable alone and thought they were the only ones.
They weren’t.
Neither was I.
That was
