Sunday, August 30, 2009

Tastes Like Wall

My 94-year-old great aunt, Rena, lives with my mom. She's bent and broken and angry about all of it. Since March she's lived with my mother. She's not too pleased about that either. My mom lives with that every day. Mom is either crazy or extremely brave or a combination where one looks like the other. I am lucky enough not to live with that but I do write once a week. I figure any distraction we can toss in the paddock will keep someone from getting gored. My mom often talks about writing back but never quite gets around to it. Recently she got a set of pet postcards from some animal charity and she sent every one to me. Not one of them talks about what she and Rena are up to or what she's thinking about. Every single one is a first person narrative from the animal on the front of the card.

Sometimes I wonder why I do what I do and where certain parts of my brain come from.

Other times it's as clear as day.


  1. Every once in a while, you bust out with a post that makes the English teacher in me totally geek out.

    This is one of those posts. Sparse, spare, beautifully written and INCREDIBLY telling, and gently requiring that the reader do much of the heavy lifting. Simply gorgeous, Girlfriend; you've hit another one out of the proverbial park.

  2. That's really nice of you to say. It makes me alternately very proud and embarrassed to tell you how long it took to put together.

  3. Miflohny11:26 PM

    Well, it made me laugh out loud!

    Thanks for that!

  4. you know what I hate about slip covers???


    always keep those card. and someday. please
    post them