I try to settle on a thought but there are so many to choose from, and that’s a good thing like a BOGO coupon or even half off, something that will save me. Diane Seuss and her helpful reminder, “at birth, all of our little hearts like little acorns break.” I must remember to be nice to my mother, to love her dammit, because it’s tricky business picking up someone else’s crystal pieces. Chrystal was once a neighbor, louder than the Roman candles she exploded in the street until the cops came by and shut down the July celebration. We were mostly independent mothers emulating what we imagined to be true about a young caretaker, which is better than being an undertaker on a limited income, good for everyone else but not for you. The young ones always need something, and I try not to blame my mother, it really is on sale, this I’m so sorry, this forgiveness, this I need you to choose me one more time… this is what’s in store when I order my life from soiled diapers all the way up to graduation. Independence has unearthed another woman. Yes, we need saving. Yes, shattered glass. Yes, Seuss our broken hearts. Yes, my tender on the counter. Yes, change. I settle on this: I must save myself. Yes, I must set my mother free. Yes, mothers are free.
Abena Ntoso is a writer living in Houston, Texas, where she teaches English and is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Oklahoma City University. Her writing has been published in Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Satirist, ONE ART, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Trampoline, Equinox, and The Wrath-Bearing Tree.
