It began when the leaves began to turn with a phone call from my mom at 3am.
When I was little I would ask to talk to my Granny on the phone every day. I'd dial the numbers carefully and she'd laugh at me breathing into the handset before we'd launch into our special language which my mother called 'gibberish.' Mom didn't understand me the way Granny did.
The call was my mom 500 miles away, angry and drunk. Through the garbel and slurs I realized that Granny...