Living Through This, Again

Living Through This, Again

The moment I had long dreaded finally arrived: the day I’d have to dismantle my childhood. I suppose I should consider myself lucky. It took 43 years to get here, to this spring day in 2025, standing in my nearly empty former bedroom in my mother’s house in Philadelphia, wearing a Mitski T-shirt, ratty yoga pants, and the glasses I only have on when I’m beyond exhausted. And lucky, too, that after the end of a 19-year run at a music writing job …