trixel

My mom's been at her sister's farm for the past few days. It's been nice to have my place to myself again for a little bit.

My mom and I have been combative pretty much as long as I can remember. Our personalities don't really mix. It's been interesting having her live with me for the past year, to say the least.

This morning while I was in the kitchen cleaning the syringes and stuff for the guinea pigs, I glanced over and noticed my mom had saved the wishbone from a roast chicken we had last week. It made me tear up because it reminded me of my sister and I when we were small. Every day after Thanksgiving we'd ask my mom if the wishbone was ready for wishing yet.

My mom did a lot of cool stuff for S and I. She made us homemade playdough, invented games for us, decorated special cakes for our birthdays. I should remember these things when I'm about to lose my patience with her.

I shake my hips but I walk like a cripple, and my body is getting too thin
I can count every one of my bones in the mirror, poking through my cold white skin

There's a shiny star on the dressing room door, but I'll be out in the back of my car
Cause I don't know a soul I can trust with the money or to tune up my guitar

Drinks and pills and Nashville radio, my life will never be the same
Chills and spills from Maine to Mexico, riding on my funeral train

Doctor, Doctor, sign my prescription, I'm in trouble again
Ever since I was a tiny little baby, I couldn't get rid of the pain.

-- Jon Langford, Nashville Radio