My dad had never been in a gambling hall before and some folks on the ride gave him on a rundown on how it works. He stuck a nickel in a slot and $5 worth came toppling out. He collected his winnings, purchased two McDonald’s cheeseburgers, “one for now and the other for later,” and promptly returned to the bus as if federal agents were on to him. The “I’m new here” fear left my dad early, but my mom is still this like this despite landing here in 1976. She still clutches her purse and expects to be deported from her neighborhood Vons.
Swati writes beautifully. She shared her blog on The Good Place a little while back and I added her to my feed reader immediately because her messages on TGP really punch above the average, bring life like. But only now am I taking the time to read her longer writing, and man, it’s good.
