for Mom & Grandma Seattle
Mom, you kicked a lot.
Did I? Or was I just stubborn and placid, blooming late?
And why they cut me out.
But they didn’t cut you out; you came on your own.
She said you would have a big space in your mouth. And you did.
That doesn’t make her psychic. That makes her Polish.
Apparently kicking meant you were supposed to be a boy. I’m glad you weren’t.
Reading the chapter 34, “Another Baby, Marcia”, I can’t help but notice that there’s so little there about you. There’s so little there aside from the facts about your imperfect teeth.
These things just leave holes in your mouth. And you filled them with so many joys and advices, that one could almost say dentists are meant to be dumb.
I like that you were able to sell Catholic seals to Protestants. And cattle are still cows, no matter how many times corrected.
You were a late bloomer. Alright.
The slow bloomers always last longer anyway.
