Emotional Amazonian

She was amazonian in build. We spent hours in front of Bonanza, she lacing yarn through plastic cards and I counting my cross stitches, surrounded by shelved unicorns. Today when I arrived she was fresh from a bath, and demanded we go shopping.

“Can’t you do SOMETHING about those DAMN wipers?”
“What? Shut them off so I can’t drive?”
“YES!” she laughed. At least she was in a good mood.
“It had better stop RAINING before I have to get out at the store!” she threatened the sky.

She drove an electric cart, insisting her doctor didn’t know crap and her knees would give out before the bread aisle. She bought soda even though it gave her an infection, and chips even though she swore she was on a diet. She cooed at and scared every baby we passed, telling me about the twins she lost at 16. She lost herself, too

She said it was my fault she lost her keys and locked us out. She slammed my car door, and told me to “F-off!”
I called my boss.
Then crying, afraid, she forgave me and let me in, keys having turned up.

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