Knowing that I literally carry my mother with me made me feel like I was infected with some dark thing. But then I came to feel comforted by this inheritance. What about those times in summer camp when everyone got sick but me? Or the intimate moments when boys tell me I smell nice even when I’m sweaty? It must have been her microbes. I look at how far I’ve come and I see that my mother’s microbes have been my invisible teammates. I understand that even if her illness prevented her from raising me, part of her has been with me all along.
