And I was picky, believe me. I interviewed a dozen home health aides, at least. Half of them could barely speak English, and one had the nerve to ask if her son could come to my house after school. I was like, lady, I don’t know even know you, let alone your son.
But Sunita was polite. Professional. I didn’t have to listen to any sob story about her starving family. I still don’t know much about her personal life; I don’t even know which island she comes from. Which is how it should be. Boundaries.