Moms are tough that way…
When I was young, my mom and I moved to New York to take care of my Nannie who had breast cancer.
My Nan fought like hell, and we spent a good bit of time in Bronxville.
We lived in a one-bedroom apartment, which was part of a big yellow house that had four or six units. I can’t exactly remember. We lived on the second floor.
My mom gave me the room, and she slept on a pullout couch. The story goes, she wanted me to have my privacy, but I think she secretly wanted to be closer to the record player and keep me away from late night TV. She was resourceful that way.
The whole place had wood floors that were always cold in the morning. Our landlord was super cheap, so my mom would wake up early and bang on the radiator with a wrench to get…
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