Thelittle girls in their pink tights and leotards were dancing to gentlemusic, paying attention to Ms. Carson, their dance teacher. Standingthere, I c...uld see my reflection in the mirrors, with the tights andribbons in my hair I looked really cute, but something wasn't right, Idon't know what is was but, I still looked like a boy in a dress.There were some other moms standing near us, also waiting for the classto end. I had been keeping my head down trying not to make eye contact with anybody;. By page five, I was simply reading my mother's thoughts. She'd made notes of what we did each day. I remembered a lot of it, and for at least four pages in a row, she didn't even mention that she was dying. In some places, she mentioned what she planned to do in a month or so, as if she had no doubt that she'd be around then. As I read some of the pages, it was as if my mother didn't even know that she was going to die. That was probably because she wasn't obsessing over it. She was doing. More

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