“My stomach is in knots,” said Mom, as she took her dinner plate and scraped the roast beef, mashed potatoes, and green beans into the garbage can. She can’t eat because of us four girls. Hell, teenage times are tough. Isn’t easy raising three, fiery teens and one on the cusp.
I feel so responsible for her pain and I just don’t know how to fix, help, heal her.
I wish I could take off on a sparrow’s back and fast-fly the hell out of here.
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