I was twenty-two years old when I first slept with my mother. It was a surreal and completely unexpected experience. It began with a phone call from my Aunt Doreen. She broke the news that Great Aunt Judy was in the hospital and unlikely to pull through. Mum was visibly upset and made immediate plans to visit Judy, who lived in Hastings, a seaside town on the English Sussex coast. Dad was away on business, and Mum didn’t drive, so I offered to take her.
Mum worked the phone and the internet to book hotel rooms. It was the height of the holiday season, and the UK was experiencing a mini heatwave, so I wasn’t optimistic, but she persevered and struck lucky. A late cancellation meant we could at least have one room. It had separate twin beds and was only for two nights, so Mum took it. Her focus was Judy, not hotel rooms.
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Here’s To You Great Aunt Judy!