Valentine's Day, 1986 [a short story in-progess]

Surely, this happened before bi-polar disorder even existed, and you classified the split person as kind of crazy. It just sucked whenever that person was your mother. For my entire childhood, I slowly learned (partly on my own, and of course from my older brothers) how to deal with my mom being kind of crazy and how to lie about it. I'm not sure if I ever had an idea of her as a whole mother, but I was young when I realized she had divided at some point. Maybe it was before me.

And yet, viewing something as it divides is a rare, unbelievable, and awing experience. Like the first time you learn about cell division in seventh grade science: you look over the sequence of poorly colored illustrations in your dusty, worn book (the pages feel too soft in your hands), then realize after looking at your first cell under the microscope that this sequence really can happen! All those little squirmy things move so fast in your gaping right eye. So, cells can divide. Yes. But who every thought a person could? Much less my mommy?

For so long, I knew her sick side. Then, one day, I saw the division line. It's true! I really did see the side of her I never knew. Though just a glimpse, it has impressed something deep and queer upon my heart. Something in my mother began to pull at that division line the day Daddy started to die.

to be continued...