butter in her food.
She watched television too late at night.
Her presence, according to him, was suffocating him inside his own home.
I stared at my husband and felt as if I were looking at a stranger.
When Mom first moved in with us, Brandon had been the one who drove to the Amtrak station in central Milwaukee to pick her up.
That very first evening, he had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled warmly.
“Doña Margaret, please make yourself completely at home here.”
Now that same
