I Write Her

Mother’s death was unexpected, so sudden and bizarre. I found her will; she’d cut me out. Not surprisingly, though, my mother diderr. She had forgotten to sign the will making it void. State law dictated that I, as her daughter, was the rightfulheirafter all. I understood my mom’sbaseinstinct, a vile need to wound, having lived through her cruelty for many years. It didn’t come as a shock that even in death, she would attempt to shake me up a bit. Her intention, like the twang of abassguitar, low and guttural, certainly resonated. Rude.

Inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix

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