my mother

i forgive my mother because I saw her and I saw myself.

I had a vision of her running through the woods barefoot in the dress she wore to my brother’s wedding, or something like it, chased by the natives who wanted to skin her alive. 200 years ago. Her, utterly bewildered.

Similarly after Ian was born and I was deep in postpartum psychosis and depression (they call it “hormones”) I could see them with Steven and I, so young and alone and terrified.

And I see how the lifelong habits of a misunderstood invalid made it a living hell for my son. It doesn’t matter WHY it happened it is that it DID happen. And a young child had no power to understand why.