Eight years later, my mom is 87. She is 4’11” and weighs 80 pounds. My world sometimes feels paradoxical as I edit a memoir in which my mom is vibrant, strong, even tyrannical sometimes, and then I stroll through the looking glass (or pocket doors in my living room) to care for the tiny, frail creature my mom has become.

When I wrote that nearly 3 years ago, I didn’t think caring for my mom could get harder. I published the memoir, I’m still…




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