Anyway, back to my mother.
I guess the word mother can mean a lot of things. I mean, it’s just a word. It can just mean the person who gave birth to you, or I guess it can mean the person who raised you and cared for you. I’m not sure the best way to describe my mother. All I really knew, growing up, was that my mother was different. She was never traditional, and she always followed her own paths. Which is good! Believe me, it’s good. I totally admire this about her. It was really great how she traveled a lot, and explored a lot, and never got stuck in those awful ruts of having a traditional job or a traditional marriage. 'You only live once, don’t you,' she would say. But anyway, it seemed like she was always the happiest when my dad would come for visits. I remember them in his van, singing along to the radio. We never actually went anywhere, we just drove around and I would pretend we were a normal family, taking a normal Sunday drive. But we don’t really talk about him any more. I think her new boyfriend doesn’t like him. I wonder what Alan’s mother was like.
*stares at typewriter*
Hmmm, I’m still thinking about The Squid.