Digest This!

Mother was not the mothering sort. She had babies. Plenty of ‘em – five – but after they graduated from wriggling, cooing helplessness, she checked out. She always said she loved infants. Kids, not so much. Spring melt in Como, Quebec. Mother taking my brother Donny for a walk around 1940something. Both are gone now. To be fair, she was depressed, improperly and sporadically medicated, angry and lonely. A broken soul. I don’t suppose I’d like a bunch of demanding kids around either, all wanting stuff: attention, looking after, love... She never said as much, but I think she wished she could have been someone else. Someone more. She took no pride or joy in being a mother, wife or homemaker, y

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