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Month: December 2011

Clockwork heart

I have a clock work heart. In the morning when I wake up, all the gears tick, spin and whirr. They turn without protest as I swing my feet out of bed and go about my morning routine. Slow and steady, spokes touch spokes, turning the great machine that is my body and brain into a slide-show of normality. I wash my face. (That looks like my mother’s if she were fat.) I brush my teeth. (That are crooked like hers but not like hers.) I brush my hair. (That darkened from a daisy-blond, like my mothers. That is thinning as I…

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Just give me one moment more.

My mother. What do I say about my mother? What can I say about her? “She was beautiful.” Of course she was. She was my  mother after all. What child who does not love their mother think their mother is anything but? Even when crows feet begin their slow, inevitable climb at the corners of their eyes. Even when their hair starts to go a little grey at the temples. “She was strong.” Any woman who gives birth to a child and doesn’t give in to the urges to go utterly mad with sacrificing her own life to the raising of a little mini…

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