Illustrations Derika Volpi and Paula Dubois
I started getting ready, sluggish from the smothering heat. Pushed a comb through my hair and searched for the coolest dress to wear. Why, oh why, was I bothering, I asked myself. I hardly knew the oom. But then again, he was kind to my mother when she was alive. They lived in the same old age home. And often, when the dementia upset her, the oom looked out for her, guiding her back when she got lost or finding lost things for her.