Sometimes I can remember a lot about Mom and other times I can’t exactly get her face right. How she held her mouth when she called me Sweetpea.
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The pale gray sky is a stark backdrop to the bright sand slopes, tufts of grass sprouting like the sketchy beard on a 15-year-old. Derek puts his arm around me and I relax against his chest. He digs in his pocket for two white tablets. Great for sex, he says.
LEGACY BY JUDY L MANDEL 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 37
After the divorce, when I was three, Mom a…