Anger and Empathy
I remember when I was very little, maybe three or four, my mother said to me, “What am I going to do with you?” I told her she could put me down the garbage chute. I imagined that was where the Sesame Street monsters lived. I thought I could live with them and that’s where I would belong. I also wanted to solve the problem for her.
Her fury, her hurt, her fear and shame was pure focus. She dug deeper into her legs. The blood began to run down her thighs, soaking through her dress and forming a small puddle in the pew.