Coming of Age

“I said, let’s go!”

“I said no, Mom.” Kelly pushed herself up. Tears were gluing strands of hair to her cheeks. “I love him. We are engaged.”

“No you’re not!”

“Yes I am. I am 26 years old. I can make my own decisions. Stop trying to run my life!”

“Kelly, you don’t know what you are saying! I will not have you make the same mistakes I did.”

“Shut up! Just shut up and listen. I am a grown woman. I am tired of living your dreams. You wanted me to be a terrific tennis player, a violinist, a pianist, a dancer, and you always put me in these classes and I always failed; always disappointed you. I am not a failure, Mom. I am just.. not.. you.”

Fury burned in her mother’s eyes, but she kept her mouth shut.

“I am a microbiologist. I study bacteria. And guess what? I like camping.” Kelly said these last three words as if they were daggers thrown into her Mother’s heart. Her mother staggered back, mouth agape, then turned and stormed out.

“Welcome to the family,” my Dad quipped.

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