“That bed. King-sized, at least. With space for visitors, and belongings and much much more. We used to lay towels on it and have Chinese food. We used to play Scrabble… I know you love me. That you are doing your best.”
Late at night, while his baby daughter sleeps, a son makes notes on his mother’s daily life and scenes from their complicated relationship. He is shaping a play, and a perspective. Two blocks away, his mother naps, and smokes, and reads, and drinks coffee. She is shaping her existence within encroaching confines.
This New York story asks how we come to know one another as parents and as children. How do we care for those we love, and what does it take to live with – and without – them?
