“Can I have some?” I still want to know.
My mother stirs a pot on the stove.
I change tack.
“The teddy bear needs a pickle,” I say to Mom who moves around seven-year-old me like I am invisible.
Saturday, December 28, 2019
the last book I ever read (The Yellow House: A Memoir by Sarah M. Broom, excerpt five)
“Can I have some?” I still want to know.
My mother stirs a pot on the stove.
I change tack.
“The teddy bear needs a pickle,” I say to Mom who moves around seven-year-old me like I am invisible.
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