I remember it like it was almost yesterday. My mom and I stood at the top of the stairs of my childhood home and, like many angsty teens, I was crying. The funny thing is that I don’t fully remember what I was crying about. A relationship. A disappointment…
There’s a ratty old hoodie I occasionally think about throwing away. The cuffs are stained with bleach. The sleeves no longer reach my wrist. More than once, a kind soul points out the small stain just right of the zipper. I’m quick to explain its origin…