,


"My mother's gone ferrel.

All of the words surrounding her "I love you" are the words of someone looking for trouble. She searches, questions, and then disects my answers.  She's on the hunt for any "morsel" that she can use to attack.  Like an inspector looking for a criminal. The criminal, "Me."  Now that she's old, she doesn't hide it behind the slick veneer of concern for my health, the health of my family, or even Christian charity. Now I know the ugly truth. She love my brother better than she'll ever love me. I'm the unlucky penguin baby who she's been trying to leave on the ice flow. The one she wants to offer up as a leapord seal's lunch.  She's trying to erase my exisitance with it's in perfections. All the genetic flaws that she's sure my brother and his family don't have are there inside of me and I must be metaphorically destroyed to preserve the bloodline.


It's her quest for perfection.


She needs me gone to have it."


from

Mother's Day Weekend. Alittle brunch and sweet tea.

by

C Anne Ford

5-9-11

all rights reserved by the author.

.




.