October 1, 2015

“Mother went into a rage. She swallowed sleeping pills one at a time and each time she swallowed, the action was violent. She heaved her hands towards her mouth, first the left, then the right, the pills somehow finding the way to her tongue without falling between her fingers. Mother finished two bottles of the pills and was more awake than before. She crouched in the corners and mumbled incoherently. Sometimes we heard spare words. Mother spoke endless about the house and its walls. She mentioned the hallway. She spoke of the bed. She said many things about the children. We kept our distance. We always stayed away from mother when she was like this. Each time seemed like the worst of the rages.”

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