NOW THAT I live with my mom, my preferred mode of communication with her is by text. We're in each other's faces enough these days. Her first messages come in the morning, before sunrise, when she hears my heavy tread from her suite downstairs in our Vancouver Special, a mainstay structure in the city's residential areas. Once deemed boxy and cookie cutter, the architectural equivalent of a Honda Element, Vancouver Specials are now touted for their ability to accommodate two households, one on each floor. I'm in the kitchen, making my eight-year-old's school lunch, when my phone buzzes and my mother puts in her breakfast request.
Until she started dialysis at the end of 2022, my widowed, then seventy-one-year-old mother managed to be both active and sedentary, gamely driving in her SUV to a slate of appointments, school pickups for my daughter, and mahjong nights. The arrangement had served us well since we all moved in together in 2021, a decision made with my wife's approval. My mom had been on her own since my brother married and moved out, right before the COVID-19 pandemic.
In early 2023, dialysis, new medication, and an injury left her on her back most of the day. My brother and I took her to hospital appointments and blood tests that always seemed timed to crater our workdays. We endured her criticisms and round-the-clock bedside requests - my brother, who lives a few minutes away with his wife and in-laws, more stoically than me. While my mother was out of commission, my wife and I took over the school pickups and cooked her meals.
From the outside, we are enacting the best practices of urban family resource management. With rising housing costs and changing demographics, multi-generational living has finally gained social acceptance. Advocates trumpet its economic and emotional benefits.
Despite being so on-trend, I don't feel especially cool living with my mom. And even an hour from sunrise, I'm already exhausted.
Esta historia es de la edición JanFeb 2024 de The Walrus.
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Esta historia es de la edición JanFeb 2024 de The Walrus.
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MY GUILTY PLEASURE
I WAS AS SURPRISED as anyone when I became obsessed with comics again last year, at the advanced age of forty-five. As a kid, I loved reading G.I. Joe and The Amazing Spider-Man.
The Upside-Down Book
In her new novel, Rachel Cusk makes the case for becoming a stranger to yourself
Pick a Colour
BACK HERE, I can hear a group of women trickle in. Filling the floor with giggles and voices.
Quebec's Crushing Immigration Policy
Familial separation can have devastating consequences on mental health and productivity
The Briefcase
What I learned about being a writer from trying to finish a dead man's book
In the Footsteps of Migrants Who Never Made It
Thousands have died trying to cross into the US from Mexico. Each year, activists follow their harrowing trek
Blood Language
Menstruation ties us to the land in ways we've all but forgotten
Dream Machines
The real threat with artificial intelligence is that we'll fall prey to its hype
Invisible Lives
Without immigration status, Canada's undocumented youth stay in the shadows
My Guilty Pleasure
"The late nights are mine alone, and I'll spend them however I damn well please"