It seems like, overnight, my mother stopped caring. She got rid of old clothes that didn’t really fit and bought bright clothes in the right sizes. She stopped counting calories and measuring portions. She stopped dyeing her hair and let the soft white grow out from her scalp. She ate an entire brownie that she found in the freezer that turned out to be filled with potent weed, and then proceeded to eat two, maybe three bowls of steaming pasta. She got drunk on FaceTime with me and started talking like a jazz cat from an off-brand kids movie. “Heyyyyy bayyyybyyyyy,” she slurred after half a
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