I feel her bones in my bones. She’s always been there. I was born with the knowing. Her story has always been on my lips, her thoughts have always been in my head, her mistakes have always been my perdition. I’ve felt her presence in my body but her absence from my life. Dead two years and two days before I was born; she was 52. Inside but not here. Grandma: Abby. The center of my being, like she is in the center of my name. Middle name: Abby. When they tell me I’m so much like her, I know already. I know because I’ve grown into her, not on purpose.
I couldn’t help it.