An Empty Store

Last night, the husband and I had a talk. The struggle--so we call it--of being thin or eating more than we need--has become overbearing. We decided to do something about it, for the millionth time. Today it stuck. I made it through the day breaking some bad habits that have dominated my eating landscape way too long.

It stuck partially because of an old chicken box. My mother used to live with us (don't go there) and when she took a new job on the coast, her things trickled down with her, bit by bit. One thing she left in our care was a box of pictures.

My mother and I are estranged. To say that the relationship had been difficult would be an understatement that would hurt God's own head.