Not cool.

As I occasionally pick away at my memoir, I stumble upon facts from my life that do not seem as surprising or glaring until they stare back at me from the page.

Here’s one from today:

The social worker who assisted my mother in explaining my parent’s divorce and presented himself as someone who could help me and my siblings process our feelings was living with us less than a month later and was married to my mother less than a year after that.