So Proud to Look Like Mama

“In or out?” my mother asked, the phone pressed up against her shoulder.

I stared up at her. All 5’5″ of her seemed to tower over me. I peered down the empty hall, every door in sight closed. And then down at my shoes- or her shoes, rather, red and far too large. A black beaded necklace hung around my neck and traveled all the way down to my waist. Bracelets adorned my arms, too big to hang on my wrists. With no audience in sight, I sighed and tottered over the threshold, the door closing my runway behind me.

Childhood Revisited


5 thoughts on “So Proud to Look Like Mama

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