“Did you try popping your ears?” my mom asks me over the phone, as I’m standing in the home goods aisle of H Mart.
That’s her answer for everything, including my bad week. Not to say that she takes my dips lightly. But unlike my friends or my cousins or even my brother, Jean often tries to link my lows with something physiological. Oh, you're depressed? There must be something wrong with your chemisms. (Her sister is a nurse, so she knows.)
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