You'll Never Remember Your Mother

The cabin was cold, but not frigid. The gaps in the planks had been patched with drywall. She'd forgotten to bring extra blankets, but she could probably find some. If she meditated, she might be able to sleep. Maybe Jessie really did have it under control. Her situation flared into harsh focus again. Okay. You're staying tonight? Yes. His coughing had stopped, so it might not be the emergency she'd feared. Then she saw the tears shining in her father's brown eyes. He finally said, I'm forgetting her. Your mother. "Some part of you will always be horseshit," he told her.