“That’s the last day I lived with my mom.” “Your aunt took you in?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Evaline made sure I didn’t go back there again.” This is the hard part. The bit that always makes me choke up when I try to find adequate words to explain it. “Except, by the time I finished high school, she’d already started forgetting things. Getting muddled up easily, you know.” I scratch at the label on the beer. “They called it early-onset dementia, and it took my aunt away before I knew which way was up.”
