She sent me to “my” bedroom and told me to put on pj’s. Then, we sat on the couch and watched a movie where a woman gives up her career as a Hollywood producer to begin her dream of running a vinegar shop in some New Hampshire town. It was perfect. . . . Not that I actually watched it. I fell asleep almost as soon as the boy met the girl.
I woke up a couple of hours later from a dream about a cemetery where all the tombstones could talk but I couldn’t understand them. Frustration lingered in my body as I tried to figure out where I was.
Mom was asleep next to me on the couch, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open “catching flies” as Mrs. Garrison would have said. When I stood to lay my blanket over her, she stirred and opened her eyes. “Movie over?” she asked groggily.
I glanced
