5. Dear Kiddo, Take My Hand Into Darkness

When I met Mom, there was already something lingering in the background, like an uninvited guest at a dinner party who refuses to leave. That something—or someone—was Scary. Yes, Scary wasn’t her real name, but it’s the name that stuck in my brain as I look back on her nearly cosmic role in my relationship with Mom. Scary wasn’t just an ex-girlfriend—she was a symbol of everything complicated, absurd, and hilariously misguided about my early days navigating relationships.