In our kitchen. 28 West 69th St.

My mother, Roberta Held-Weiss. I think this was late spring, 1985. Right before all hell broke loose, and her tumors metastasized. 

We'd lived in that apartment since 1973, for twelve years. That wallpaper was there when we moved in, and the kitchen was quite small, facing west. Its one window let floods of afternoon and evening light in. In the summer, the room was unbearable; my grandmother, who spent many hot afternoons making food that we didn't really need, or rearranging our fridge, would complain incessantly. "I can't stand the heat, I had a west facing window in my kitchen in Crotona Park North, I said never again."