my mother continues her stay at what is called a rehabilitation facility. i call it a horrible place which is only slightly less terrible than the hospital that sent her there. it smells like dead rats and mold. my father refuses to let me bring anything from their house. he tells me the smell will get into it. no shampoo. no underwear. no toothpaste. so rely on the strawberry all in one shampoo-body wash-mouthwash that was given in my mother’s welcome basket. i smuggled in some things :biscotti, torrone, her own toothbrush. my father found the stuff. told me not to bring them home. if she doesn’t eat them to throw them way. my father is the least wasteful person you will ever meet. doesn’t flush the toilet after every piss. so to hear my father tell me to throw something away, i know he hates this place to.

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i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.

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adriana suriano

adriana suriano

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.

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