When I was growing up, mom and I didn’t have the ideal relationship. We rarely talked.
It’s not that she was a bad mother or anything. She was ill. Like, mentally.
Still, she had her own way of reaching out to me… through her library.
One by one I read her books… the ones she read, the ones she didn’t…
And I knew her, in a way that other kids don’t get to know their moms.
Know how I got ‘the talk’? She left some sex-ed book outside my bedroom door…
Weird, I know. But she tried.
True story, btw.
© 2013 K.Z. Morano