This is why it’s so great talking to my mom. She always ends up saying exactly the right thing, and this time it’s such a relief, all the words and feelings inside me crest like a wave and threaten to overflow. I want to tell her that it is hard. I want to tell her how stuck I feel sometimes, stuck in helplessness and not knowing what to do. But just this acknowledgment from Mom makes it easier for me to go back to being the person who lightens things. Tries to bring a little sun when things are murky. That’s when I feel most like myself.

“It’s really fine. I’m okay,” I say.

“She’s going to have some major compensating to do when she gets home.”

I’m not sure what the sunshine response is to this. After a pause, Mom sighs. “Is she okay?”

I glance at Ruth. She’s lying on her bed with her face to the wall. “I think so. Sort of.”

Mom knows what I mean, and sighs again. “We’ll be there soon,” she says, partly to reassure herself, I think.

“Totally,” I say. “And Ellie and Eddie are here. Really, Mom, we’re doing great.”

I hear her turn on the tap. I imagine her in the kitchen, filling a pot to cook ravioli or broccoli or something. “You know,” she says. “It’s so much harder seeing you guys go through something difficult than going through it myself.”

My throat catches. Mom’s words feel like spotting my reflection in a mirror, or like she’s defined something I hadn’t quite known the words for until now. Even my bones feel like they’re responding to how true this feels. How waiting and watching, being able to offer no tangible comfort, feels like being on a stationary bike trying to catch up to someone far ahead who’s calling out for help. How I’d jump at the task of climbing Everest if only it meant bringing my family, bringing Ruth, some peace.

It’s a relief to put such concrete words to my frustration. And, especially, to know someone else feels the exact same way.

I pull out my smiling voice. “That’s why you’re such an awesome mom.”

“The force is strong with this one,” she says.

“Guess what?” I say. “I was googling, and there’s this museum, the Houston Museum of Natural Science, and supposedly it’s got these awesome dinosaur skeletons. I asked Ellie if we can stop there.”

After I hang up with Mom, I go back to my window. It’s much greener than I expected for Texas, especially in the summer. There are tall trees everywhere, good for climbing. We pass several stucco apartment buildings. The sky is gray and threatening rain, and I hear the rumbling of thunder every once in a while.