I’ve occupied myself, mostly, by reading Taiye’s letters and attempting to have lucid conversations with our mother. She is a whole other character. This morning, for example, while we were tucking into a breakfast of masa and catfish stew that Taiye woke up before the sun to prepare, our mother asked if I still worked at the gallery. “Yes,” I said, “but only part time.” She didn’t ask, “How come part time?” or “What do you do the rest of the time?” She just nodded and said, “Lovely,” then took a big bite of her breakfast. “How about your art?” Taiye had asked to fill the awkward silence our
...more
