Apr 24
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The People Who Raise Us, and the People Who Raise Themselves

Lena grits her teeth as she watches her mother walk out the door and shut it behind her for what she thinks might be the last time. Anne James had never been much of a mother, but Lena can’t help the pang that goes through her chest when she realizes that Anne might just be done trying entirely. Done with her.

“I’ll be alright,” she reassures herself, watching her mother climb in her old chevy and drive away. “I’ve survived without her before."

“Except before I could count on her coming around every once in a while. I could count on her to help with things that dad couldn’t and to give me advice.”

“But it's not as if I couldn’t have figured that stuff out on my own,” she reminds herself, “and besides, she didn’t come around that often anyway.
I’m going to be alright.” she tells herself firmly, turning away from the window.

“Plenty of people don’t have mothers, and they're all doing just fine. Anyway, I’m an adult now. I don’t need her anymore.”

“I want her though.” The thought comes unbidden and Lena wants to swat it away. “I’m always going to want her. To want her to want me. She’s supposed to be my mom.”

“She’s never been much of one.”
 
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Stephanie Bidwell
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