There was a crag and a moment…

…but now there is only awareness of damp, worm-bored earth, and soft forms winding around me, clearing paths for my arms, fingers, and legs.

There was a moment and a gasp…

…and then a scent…

…of my mother’s ivory soap, and I regret hating her for being odd.

Under flickering fluorescent lights, near shelves stacked with jars of soil and water and germinating seeds, their roots pressed frantically against glass, and tables cluttered with slides of dried blood, my father tried to explain. Even when he peered through a microscope, or scraped skin from my arm, or swabbed the inside of my cheek, he tried to make me see what I couldn’t.

You want her to be different, but odd is in her nature. It is how she survives.

If you take a herding dog into your home, you will not be able to subvert herding instincts and behavior that have been shaped over centuries, even if you try.

Every living thing possesses survival instincts, Lorna. We are not so different from that dog. Despite thousands of years of evolution, human bodies still make adrenaline when stressed, still fight or flee in defense of life, territory, and property, and establish packs with the same primitive reflexes as our ancestors. And, more often than not, humans still sacrifice their individualism to those packs in order to survive.

Your mother is not a pack animal.

(From Graffiti) ©2019 All Rights Reserved

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