You learn about the narrator and you cluck-cluck at her adolescent mistakes of judgment (if that’s what they are, as in they were generated by her fervent love for her complicated and beautiful mother); you grow up with her and her inner anguish; you break away with relief and happiness for her.
Don’t know why but I’ve been writing and editing pieces of work and my head has suddenly filled with an image poem. Something I saw. Something I loved. Something I took a photograph so I can go back there any time. Vancouver, Coal Harbor, on a crystalline January evening. And wanting to share my joy in that image I created a dress and a skirt on redbubble from my memories. Holler if you like them!