Sorry we f*cked up, kid
An essay about talking to my mom, school shootings, generational strife, Everything Everywhere All at Once, apologies, and the judgement of history
[Writer’s note: Today’s post isn’t funny. This post is a serious essay about the serious topic of school shootings. I hope it’ll make you think and feel the feels, as the kids say, but it won’t make you laugh. Sorry. If you came here to laugh, I think you’ll enjoy this very silly piece I wrote last March called “The Case of The Missing Laptop.” Read it here.]
My mom called me on Wednesday night. She’s been trying to get better at reaching out on the regular, and I’ve been trying to encourage her. Like everything else in this world, our relationship is a work in progress.
“Can you talk right now?” Mom asked. “Are you free?”
“Sure, it’s a good time.”
I switched to my earbuds and plopped down on the couch. Mortimer curled up next to me. For a few minutes, Mom and I went through the preliminaries.
Are you good?✅
Is Christina good?✅
Is Mortimer good?✅
Then Mom got the reason for her call.
“I woke up this morning, and I felt like I needed to call you today,” she bega…
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