don’t know what to do with her.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand her.”
James looked curious.
“How?”
“My mother explained her.”
“In the restroom?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That your mother is a category person.”
He stared for one second.
Then nodded slowly.
“That is painfully accurate.”
“She understands types before individuals.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Catherine.
“I love my mother. But I know what she is.”
Something about that sentence reminded me immediately of Mom.
Not who someone is.
What they are.
The patterns that emerge when
