Antarctica is Warmer Than My Home
Language: en
My grandmother’s ninetieth birthday was supposed to be a grand affair. My father went so far as to hire a professional documentary crew to film a retrospective legacy piece about our family. But he forgot to register my name on the family roster. The director, clipboard in hand, was checking names to arrange everyone for the grand group photo, directing people to their spots one by one. When he reached my father’s branch, he called out four names. George, Patricia, Toby, and Hedy. I stood there waiting for ten seconds. The director looked over his shoulder at me, polite but dismissive.…