|
Mothers and Sons. Fathers and Daughters.
You are the one he ran to with a skinned knee. You got the unabridged version of the mean teacher, the unjust grade, the fight on the school bus. Your job is to make it right again. It's part of the mothering deal. And it doesn't end, ever. You are the mender, the arbiter of justice. Dispenser of peace. Sometimes it isn't easy. Then there are the soul wounds. |
|
|






