cnu-At my fortieth birthday party, my sister swung a baseball bat into…

effort and anger.

“You will again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t. But I know you’re working.”

She turned away. “I hate her.”

I did not correct her.

A therapist might have. A better person might have. I was her mother, and I knew hate sometimes arrives as proof that the injured part of you still believes it deserved safety.

“I know,” I continue reading …