Mom nods. “It’s always like that.” “What do you mean?” I ask. “Whenever I’ve made a choice in my life, a real choice…” She leans back from my head. Touches my shoulder just for a second. “I can always feel the change, after I choose. The better versions of myself, moving just out of reach.” It’s exactly what I think. So there’s nothing to say. I saw at my nose with my forearm. Palm more tears from my eyes. “I’m always losing better versions of myself,” she says. “I don’t know. You just have to keep trying.”
