I asked my mother rather randomly if she believed in fate. She must have known I was working up to something, or struggling with the small tidbits of life that I allow to become full blown tornadoes in my head.
"So, do you?" I pressed.
"Absolutely," she nodded her head, her big hair swooshing a little.
She looked me square in the face, half-smiling and said, "But I also believe in fatality."
Read you loud and clear, Ma.
This is a darkly humorous bit about life as a rural mother and freelance writer in Western Massachusetts. Little Appalachia, if you will. The title, I feel, clearly reflects how life is coming at me like an overloaded freight train, and my own ridiculous response to it. Me VERSUS all; teenage children, people who want me to work for free, conservative government, food karma, weird menfolk. You'll either laugh, shrug your shoulders, or call DSS immediately. Happy reading.
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