Yesterday was Prosery Monday on dVerse, hosted by Melissa Lemay. We are to use the following line from Tina Chang's Poem Love:
"I am haunted by how much our mothers do not know."
The rules are to use every word in the line, in their exact order, but we can change the punctuation. A prose of no longer than 144 words is to be created. I love this challenge and thank you, Melissa!
I've witnessed people cripple themselves, torture even, with beliefs they've created, focusing on what they did or didn't do. A self-haunting, if you will. To be fair to them, they were probably brought up in an environment which favoured this type of thing.
Not me. If I'm honest with myself, there are not many things I am haunted by. How much our mothers do not know is not something I think about – probably because my mother was never one of those "Oh my child would never do that" type of mother. She remembered her own youth and knew damn well what we were capable of. Hell, she did most of them herself once.
There's nothing better than seeing her look of surprise today, when we tell her stories of certain things we did. To think, somehow we managed to fool her. Once or twice.
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