Basically what she was calling me was a hypocrite — I think.
The other day I was having a salad that just happened to have an innocent sliver of steak on it — like a little tenderloin. As she watchs me put fork to plate and then to mouth, Gussie blames me for being the source of her mass confusion:
“One minute it’s O.K. to eat meat and the next minute it’s not.”
She complains. And then she continues:
“The other day someone asked me if I wanted a burger and I didn’t know what to say because of all this back and forth…”
As I try to listen to her, beyond her righteous indignation, I am trying to remember Why I miss her when she’s gone.
“Mom! I have got all of this meat running around in my head and it’s all your fault!”
Of all of the things that I imagined that I would be accused of as a mother, I promise you that this was never one of them…
No comments yet.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.