I tell him he has to come to church with me, and he says he will on Sunday. We hang up the phone, and my heart is heavy for him. At the same time, I’m angry. I’m mad about where we live and how we’re growing up. I’m pissed that the odds are always stacked against us, so everything is a struggle. I’m jealous of the guys we race because the odds are with them. I wonder if it makes rowing—and life—easier for them.
