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To be continued the next day. On Mother’s Day.

My mother is steadfast. She pulled my father off the toilet in Collinwood, Tennessee, while I cowered behind the bed. “My feet hurt too much for this,” was my excuse. Almost four hundred miles of walking. Day after day.

I thought I earned the right to avoid the sight of my father’s manhood.Continue Reading

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In: Family, Writing

Blogging three days a weeks is like a muzzle. I have about ten stories to tell, and I’m supposed to write one post today and be silent until Monday.

Dammit.

But this post is supposed to be about my mother. She deserves that pride of place.Continue Reading