Maybe, I thought, my mum had been reborn as a bird. Now she sat there, calling out to me. “Tuck in your belly!” she called. “Is that really what you’re wearing?” “Why is it that you can never walk three feet without getting filthy.” I glared up at the bird and gave it the finger; yet at the same time, I felt strangely moved and realized that I missed the feeling of someone watching over me and having opinions about me. Even if those opinions weren’t accurate, there was a sense of direction in that care, which was exactly what I missed.
