Tag: Beth Burrell

How could I blame them for wanting their lives and home to stay familiar, their belongings unmoved?

I want promises that down the road when I’m hobbling with miles of wrinkles traversing my face, I’ll still be loved.

What if she actually preferred her new family to us, her new mother to me?

In their close calls and slower movements, I see my future. I struggle to stave it off, desperately trying to keep up with my young adult children, working out, bracing my core, refusing to bow to the twinges and aches of my age.

“Are you there yet?” is something I wonder about my kids in both real and existential ways, though none of the three are truly kids anymore. I wonder where they are, if they are there. I wonder who they are, who they’re becoming. Whether it’s the person they thought, or the one I did. Or either.