We take pride in being like our mothers, but some legacies need letting go

 On one really tiring Sunday, past midnight, when I should’ve been in bed, I found myself in the kitchen, wrapping up after the guests had left. It was a Sunday evening, yet I couldn’t bring myself to refuse visiting relatives. And despite my husband’s insistence, I refused to order dinner from outside. I slogged through it, wasted my Sunday, and there I was, still in the kitchen, feeling obnoxiously drained, already dreading the start of another week.

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