PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Mom was a Mrs. Cleaver parent until I was five, making time to show me I was loved. But mom’s priorities changed to going out and sleeping in late. By my teens, we were mutually antagonistic strangers. When she drank and I mouthed off, she ripped my hair out, slapped me, and knocked me down. I hated her and left home at seventeen.
Mom’s alcoholic and violent behavior continued, and I maintained my distance. But isn’t everyone supposed to love their mother? Now we meet once a month at Rosie’s Diner for lunch. She’s sober, and I pretend I care.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the validating host of Friday Fictioneers.