The Tale of How You Were Born
All solitary women are not witches, and all witches need not be solitary. In the old country, I lived in a city of witches. Each had her own house and did her work in peace. In this land, if you want to speak with suggestion you must live in one of their cities and go to one of their universities and obtain one of their special seals. Witches haven’t the time for that kind of thing. We’re busy doing the real work.
Chicken Wire
We lived in an eggshell. I walked with light steps. To cope with crisis, my mother became an eccentric. She chased every drop of snake oil there had ever been. Nettle teas, drops, auras. I loved her so ferociously I absorbed her fantasies of moving out to a campervan on the edge of Lake Erie. She was pulling an oxygen tank behind her: water on the outside, water on her inside.
And the dog was never well-trained. She registered shrill disagreement with my father most of all. I could neither fault nor defend either of them. My mother was busy weaving absurdities to stave off despair.