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

The first time I watched, I saw Phyllis.

My mother.

The woman who raised me.

The woman whose bills I paid.

The person I had spent most of my adult life trying not to upset.

I felt rage.

The second time, I saw Clara.

That was worse.