I remember talking back to my mother—her back pressed into an overstuffed chair by the living room window—the andromeda’s sprays of white, bell-shaped flowers outside—hearing her say, “Go to your room,” with each word enunciated, “and wait until your father gets home.”
Leaving Our Daughters Without Parents
I remember talking back to my mother—her back pressed into an overstuffed chair by the living room window—the andromeda’s sprays of white, bell-shaped flowers outside—hearing her say, “Go to your room,” with each word enunciated, “and wait until your father gets home.”