Chapter 11 - THE MEAL TRAINMaya’s sister, Jenna, had organized a meal train.

Eight friends.
Frozen meals.
Soups.
Gift cards.
Mom hated it.
I learned that from text messages.
MOM:
Your fridge looks like a charity case.
ME:
It’s food.
MOM:
Maya needs to get moving. The longer she lies around the harder recovery is.
ME:
Doctor said rest.
MOM:
Doctors say that because they’re afraid of lawsuits.
I had replied with a laughing emoji.
That stupid symbol bothered me for months.
I had treated her contempt like a joke.
Then another text:
MOM:
When you were born I cooked Thanksgiving dinner five days later.
ME:
Different generation.
MOM:
Better generation.
There.
The philosophy.
May you like
I had seen it.
I had not confronted it.
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