no pointing fingers
mother taught me to be stoic
crying was not allowed
if you made that mistake
she would make fun of you
daddy was the friendly one
the one with the games
but he was almost never home
mother loved using the belt
she was good at putting welts on your legs
she only whipped you after she was in a frenzy
childhood should have been called hell
I never knew a different way
but I knew I was going to be a different mother
We never had paints; they were too messy
unless you consider those tiny watercolor tins – paints.
I always wanted to paint.
When I grew up I did everything differently than my mother.
My children knew I loved them, and I cartooned and painted
I never used a belt for anything but my own waist.
I taught everyone to “be yourself and play”
I am not saying either of us was right or wrong
but I am the happy one.
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