What she did on the plane was entirely consistent with who she is.
You just have to understand the full picture to see why.
My name is Callie Weston.
I am twenty-seven years old.
I am a dental assistant in a small practice in Raleigh, North Carolina.
I live twenty minutes from my grandmother.
I have lived close to her my whole life, with the exception of two years after college when I tried to make a go of it in Charlotte and discovered that making a go of it in Charlotte was harder than expected and that I missed my grandmother considerably more than I had anticipated.
I came back.
I am not sorry about it.
Rose has been the constant of my life since I was very small.
My parents divorced when I was four.
My mother, who is Rose’s daughter, was not well for several years after the divorce. Not in the mental health way, not in the crisis way, but in the quiet way of someone who is trying to reassemble themselves and who needs time and who cannot always be fully present for a four-year-old while they are reassembling.
