Fiction. Lots and lots of fiction. #amwriting
MAMAOnce when I was a little boy I asked my mother why the soles of her shoes had holes in them while my shoes were brand-new. “I'm always in the house,” she explained with a shrug. “Nobody sees me or my shoes,but you go to school. You need to look good.”Later on when we kids would go out on dates, she couldn't fall asleep till we came home. “Don't make me worry,” she'd say. “Be careful.”“Aw, Ma, we'll be all right. Don't wait up. Sleep.”Who understood back then a mother's love! We'd find her awake in bed with her rosary beads and then she'd fall asleep praising God that we were safe.There was never anything about her that was pretentious. She loved God, her husband, her children. She never felt the need to please the world. In fact, the first time I ever saw my mother wearing lipstick was at her wake.Mama, you carried me inside you those nine months. I helped carry you on my shoulders to your final rest. Sleep, Mama. Sleep. #
Please leave comments. Good, bad or ugly. Especially ugly.