I also had a newfound status on the carpool circuit. I rode shotgun everywhere. While my friends were in the backseat discussing bra sizes and boys, I sat in the front and listened while their mothers opened up about a recent MS diagnosis, spousal drinking, and kitchen remodels. Trash compactors! Skylights! My own mother’s condition was a floodgate; apparently now I could understand something that these women’s daughters could not. We traded diseases and misfortunes, swapped them like baseball cards. I stared at the car radio knobs or the fading “5” of the gear shift, empathically nodding my
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Haha. Aw man. Yep. This is a thing. 😔
