Milly reminds me of my mom, who likes to do things the way she does them, often ass-backwards. Oh, wait till you get old, my mother warns when I start to interfere. But it’s hard to watch someone struggle with a testy machine, a sticky door, a heavy suitcase, much less listen to them cough or cry. People want to help, and the more we’ve seen and heard and done, the more useful we are, and this is why even the tiniest show of stoicism, in little girls and grown women, makes me mad. It makes us useless to each other.
