You know, being the elder sibling is supposed to mean something, right? It’s supposed to mean responsibility, and maybe a bit of respect. But for me, it feels like a daily ritual of being scolded. If I ask for something, I’m told I’m too young. If I complain about my brother, suddenly I’m the elder...Read More

My grandmother, Fatima, held my gaze that mirrored my own. Laughter, once the lifeblood of this house, had become a distant echo. Fatima had suddenly buckled under Alzheimer’s disease, and with her decline, so did the contentment of our home. I had been frustrated for days, and that frustration had turned into helplessness. What I...Read More