My mom tells the story of when we were toddlers I would ask “where is my A.?” . “My”  Calling and asking after her as if she was mine. (I did save her life 3 times. Isn’t there a rule about owing someone your life once they save yours? A common trope of a life dept for having your life saved?)

 

I only hit A. once. I hate that I did. A. never visited E. during those years. A. never hit either E. or I. My mom hated violence and the word hate. A. probably has the strongest hands as a rock climber, but then again E. is a mechanic so she probably has strong hands too (stronger?). I’m an artist with only average-ly strong hands.