I'll try to squeeze a few sentences out before this technoi fails on me. Taking it to the shop when I get some money next week. The eagle shites.
Still very much sober but have some misgivings about my eulogy to my mother. The role of woman/mother born 1924.
I was somewhat censored (family) in not making it too political/feminist, and felt stifled. I managed to same some, but was left with just describing her simplicity, as well
our complexities.
Mother/daughter Greek myth. "She didn't kill me, and I didn't kill her". Gotta laugh. I couldn't cry.
This is not to say that all did not embrace me, and are so genuinely happy to see me sober.
I wish that I could have given a feminist treatment of Mum's life, but I suppose the idyll she held of a marriage in her youth was very innocent, naive, yet canny, and still into her 90's.
I left her watching a willy-wag tail from her blue chair and once an owl sitting on the top of the Hills Hoist. A washing line. She stood there timeless.
This is a ca crazy post, still a bit zoomed but so glad to be sober. Will post now now in case this thing fails.
I AM LUDITE!
