Glitter and Glue

by Kelly Corrigan

You think rafting through the dark is so gutsy, Walker, in your helmet and life preserver? Try watching your mother die. Try looking after her father and her kids. Try family life.

But what compressed her into an old woman, what made her bones heavy and her joints stiff, what used her up, wasn’t the labor. It was the bottomless worrying and wanting and hoping.

Raising people is not some lark. It’s serious work with serious repercussions. It’s air-traffic control. You can’t step out for a minute; you can barely pause to scratch your ankle.

The mother is the most essential piece on the board, the one you must protect. Only she has the range. Only she can move in multiple directions. Once she’s gone, it’s a whole different game.