15 Moms
My mom Melinda died when I was 8 years old and Marv, my barely-there father, was saddled with a child who he barely knew: me. Marv was essentially MIA before my mom died. He liked cars, boats, and hunting… not kids. So as we stared at each other across the dinner table every night–over a pizza box or mac and cheese usually–we were likely thinking the same thing…