Is it happy time?
Sometime along the way you make a decision to comment on the weather when you see a person on the street. You put up a Christmas tree even though you don't care about Christmas. You eat baked goods you know will kill you. Why? Maybe because your mom wanted everything good for you and you gave up trying to redefine good in the context of other people. Good became a furtive exchange between you and your self, and mom got to be proud that you appeared to be doing the right things. She's probably on to you, because moms are infinately smarter than we think, but she's also too polite to say anything because she is a mom, after all, and she knows how to talk about the weather.
2 Comments:
as usual, the cutie gets to the heart of the matter.
oh pity the mothers of olden days of bustles gathered or sheath skirts—no
pockets, no mercy
as usual, the cutie gets to the heart of the matter.
oh pity the mothers of olden days of bustles gathered or sheath skirts—no
pockets, no mercy
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