The TSA Alarm Went Off the Second They Scanned My ID

silence got long enough to itch.

Then my mother did what she always did when reality threatened her preferred version of things. She smiled the brittle smile.

“Well,” she said, touching my arm like we were close, “you should’ve said something, sweetheart. We would’ve been so proud.”

Sweetheart.

At forty-two.

In the voice she used when church friends were continue reading …