novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- celebration time come on let's celebrate. my mother was born on halloween, me a day after thanksgiving, my brother on groundhog's day, my dad a day after father's day, my grandma on friday the thirteenth. i was thinking about my mom as a five year old, looking forward to her birthday party, hoping it won't be halloween themed again this year like the other ones. it wasn't. i have pictures of this party; the boys are in short-pant suits and the girls wear dresses with frilly sleeves. there are balloons and tired children sitting on the floor. my mother's curled hair is pulled back so tightly from her face that her forehead is aching. mom always hated that grandma styled her hair that way, killing her face and giving her pounding headaches. it never registered with grandma that a simple ponytail could cause so much grief, nor did my mom turn around and realise that i hated her combing my hair with a pick to get all the tangles out, rinsing my head in lemon juice, not letting me cut my mane, trimming my bangs crookedly, making me wear ribbons. cascading images of love and pain, from mother to daughter. small pains like papercuts or pinpricks. they are the things we remember when mom turns fifty-one and dad makes her wear a stupid witch hat and takes her to ts thai even though she hates thai food and wanted to wear her tiara. 11:35 pm - 10.31.2000 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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