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they dance on the street to buskers (very embarrassing when you're twelve; very cute when you look back on it as an adult). i shit you not -- they pass me their purses and dance on the sidewalk, laughing. i thought was something that only happened in movies. my ma makes my mother eggs every morning because my mother can't cook for shit. my mother presses my ma's work blazers for her because my ma still can't figure out how to work the new iron. when it was warm, high-school me would wake up on the weekends and wander downstairs to find them sitting in the backyard in the sun, drinking coffee together and splitting the newspaper in a surgical, exact process since they'd worked out who wanted which sections years ago.