Make a wish

There she is. My mom. I’ve written about my relationship with my mother previously. She was a strong woman, an iron lady of sorts. Ahead of her time. An executive when women were not. The primary breadwinner in our family. A demanding taskmaster. A force with which to be reckoned. A stickler for table manners,…

The perfectly imperfect mother

I wear my mother’s perfume from time to time. And when I say her perfume, I don’t mean the scent she wore. I mean the scent my well-meaning father bought for her, despite the fact that I never, ever smelled perfume on my mother in my life. Perfume gave her a headache. Something you’d think…