Daughters and Mothers, Making Our Way

What I’ve learned from a long line of ‘non-compliant’ mothers about battling life’s headwinds

I don’t picture my mom as she was dying, her bottle blond hair gone short and gray, trailing around an oxygen tank like an extra appendage.

I see the face of a 40-year-old woman, wearing blue scrubs, smiling at my teenage self over dinner in the McCullough-Hyde Hospital cafeteria while on break from her shift in the ER. She always seemed happy and at home in the hospital, the domain…