Mama's Diary, Part I

I was a “why child” but unlike many others didn't ask my questions right out loud for they never elicited satisfaction- only bizarre grown-up reactions discomfort shown in odd looks or awkward glances at each other, over shoulders uncomfortable silences growing colder nervous laughter qualmish coughing even worse- the teasing, scoffing or miserable mealymouthed meaningless exchanges in that drudging monotone of “I'll explain later” or “you'll understand better once you're older- or you're grown” And so I dug for the answers myself delving in dresser drawers combing through closets and straining to reach the very highest-high shelves I wanted to know all the kinds of things that people keep to themselves Until one day, I finally found it the holy grail I was searching for- in an anemic cream-colored binding weathered and worn my Mama's diary of secret thoughts from the years before Breathless, I broke it open impatient with worrisome wait- wanting to savor it, to slow down, and taste it every scandalous secret enclosed within... so I scanned the dates before reading the entries to find out where the story would begin So far, so good it was ancient to me back before she was even married and I couldn't wait to know the fullness of it treasures trickling down like a delicious waterfall cool and refreshing invigorating but- Oh! how she had let me down! Ruining all my breathless fun I found that my Mama was not a very exciting kind of woman