this morning #749.

this morning, after being dragged through the mud by my mother the previous evening, i decided to exercise my independence & NOT go to her home for the holiday weekend. her comments were uncalled for. sure, i wasn’t a perfect son but i was the only one of her kids who kept in touch. the one best described as a “mama’s boy.” as such, i couldn’t believe when i heard third-hand that she’d told her friends that my life was “anticlimactic.” that word hurt. it didn’t matter how many drinks she’d downed. i was only thirty-three. i had room for improvement but i also had lots of living left to do. to her friends, who i saw twice a year, i was now a disappointment. that stink would stay with me forever.