Nanowrimo 7 / Eyes open

Eyes Open / Snow Patrol












It was not the first time that my mother had hung up on me. In fact, it was not the second or even the third. Nor was it the first time that I knew in my gut that I was not wrong. I was not the crazy one.



I had not handled the conversation with the best of mediation skills or grace, but neither did I feel I had been grossly rude or unfair. Not that these things had ever mattered. There were many, many examples and always with the same result. I might know I was not insane, but it didn’t stop the little voice in my head telling me I was a horrible daughter.


This was, however, the first time I had never called back. And it was the first time, I was okay with that.