sat in the hospital parking garage and counted the gas in dollars instead of gallons.
Then I did something I had sworn I would never do.
I made a list of people I could ask for help.
There was exactly one name at the top.
My mother’s name is Diane.
She had me when she was twenty-six and spent my childhood reminding me what it had cost her. Nursing school. Opportunities. Freedom.
At family holidays, she would tell people she had given up nursing school because of the pregnancy, which
