There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from when I was 16 and my mother became the first of many people to assume I was gay. Her reasons were comically flimsy and my poor Dad just wanted to sit down and take his boots off in peace, but instead ended up being yanked into a conversation that I could never get her to admit happened.

I miss her unexpected questions. I miss my Mom.