Reasons why my mother was an asshole
When I was 12 years old, I overheard my mother and sister talking about something. I couldn’t really figure exactly what they were saying but they were behaving all strange and secretive. It had to be important. It had to be significant. I had to know.Read the rest of the article at people we remember.
So I asked. “What are you talking about?”
To my surprise, they refused to tell me. “You don’t have to know. You don’t have to know just yet.” I persisted and persisted but they refused to tell me. I pled and whined but nothing, not a single word from either of them, and that made me incredibly suspicious.
What were they hiding from me? Why wouldn’t they tell me?
What news was so significant and yet, crucial that I didn’t know about it?
Perry posted this on his Facebook after finding out that his article has attracted attention.
It has come to my attention that my little article about my mother has been spread quite a bit over the last few days.
I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone for the their kind words. Whether it made you cry, laugh or hate me, I am glad that it made you feel.
I wrote this article for a friend of mine whose project is about memorializing the poignant moments of those we've loved and lost along the fragile road that we call life.
So if you are interested in contributing and sharing your stories, please feel free to head over the site.
Thank you once again for all the kind words. My mom would be glad that my grammar has improved.