My ghost hangs out in a recycling bin. In my small family — mom, sister, me — one of my nicknames was “Toter woman.” The Toter was our large blue recycling bin on wheels. I carried it up our hilly driveway every week, without fail. There was no dad or brother to do it. I was competent and strong. I did things myself; I was the eldest daughter of a single mother. Who needed a man around? Toter woman is a well-meaning family ghost. She’s powerful, but also exhausting because she always has to know