At Christmas, My Niece Opened My Gift, Laughed, And Said, “An Ipad Mini? That’s It?” Then Tossed It Back At Me. I Stood Up, Stayed Calm, Gathered Every Present I’d Brought—16 Wrapped Boxes—And Carried Them Back To My Car. Dad Yelled, “Don’t Be Dramatic.” I Replied, “I’m Not—I’m Just Done.”
My name is Helen McCort. I was thirty-nine years old that Christmas, standing in my parents’ living room with a mug of lukewarm coffee cooling in my hands, trying to convince myself that this year might feel different. It didn’t. I’d driven in from the quiet suburb outside Columbus where Evan and I lived, through … Read more