I recall the many occasions when he was gone, on the streets, God knows where, when I fantasized that I could scrape him out of my brain, if only I could get a lobotomy, the eternal sunshine of a spotless mind, and I would no longer agonize about him, and agonize for him. I am grateful now to have it all—even the worry and the pain. I no longer want a lobotomy, no longer want him erased. I will take the worry in order to take what has come through as the most important emotion after my hemorrhage. Some people may opt out. Their child turns out to be whatever it is that they find impossible to
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