I recently found a birthday card I’d made for my mother. She’d saved it in a photo album, something I hadn’t opened for years. I had forgotten about the card. It said, "When you’re very mad at me, you’re awful for a mother, But even if I had a choice, I wouldn’t want another." I think I was 8 when I made the card. She and I didn’t get along well and I wondered why she’d kept it. I think I was trying to rewrite history here. The strip often had a sweetness to it that wasn’t part of my own childhood experience.