At 30,000 Feet, I Watched My Wife Crawl Across the Floor With Both Legs in Casts While My Mother Hid Her Crutches—Then I Noticed What Was Recording Behind Them
Clara’s memories showed patterns.
My own phrases showed patterns.
That was the real revelation.
Abuse had not been invisible.
It had been repeatedly renamed.
Strong personality.
Old-fashioned.
Family friction.
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