My mother’s house was a sprawling Victorian relic surrounded by weeping willows and the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine. She met me at the door with a warm … Continue reading Chapter 8: Ghosts of the Past That weekend, while the movers packed up the remnants of my marriage, I drove up to my childhood home in Connecticut. I needed to escape the suffocating energy of the city and the endless, anxiety-inducing legal emails.