Andrew Meredith books

The Removers: A Memoir

her name for light strokes along the undersides of our forearms. I hated to wake up, so I would pull the covers over my head, eject one arm, and cry to her, “I need sweeswees.” Sometimes she would rouse me by singing her own words to the verse melody of the The Jetsons’ theme song: “Come on, Andr...