TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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I rang Mom just now, for her birthday. "I share the same birthday as Obama and the Queen Mother." She had already changed the carpets and painted the house; now she's replacing light bulbs. Dad used to do all the fixing around the house. A week after Dad died, Mom said she needed superglue. "Something broke?" I asked. "Everything broke, now dad not here," she said. "Not only me miss him, the house miss him." The headstone is finally ready; I can't believe it's been nearly a year.