I wish I’d asked my mom why she didn’t let go of my arm that day. I wonder if the option to let go had simply never occurred to her. Years after my mom died, my aunt Seema told me that she’d called my mom the day she’d given birth to me. “So how does it feel? How does it feel being a mom?” Seema had asked excitedly. “It feels good,” Mom said. “Because now I have something that’s all my own.”
