Didn't Realize I was Angry Until...
It's been three years since Mom died. For the most part, I'm fine. For the most part, I don't dwell on or even think about it much because for years, we lived apart, she in another area code or state, us operating on different social schedules despite talking semi-regularly, etc, but deep down, she was always there. She was my ultimate cheerleader, my sounding wall, the object of intense frustration, and held more of my heart than I ever knew she did--and still does. Because we lived apart for the last several years (it sounds like estranged, but I just mean literally apart--her there, me here, etc), many times, Mother's Day would come upon me, and I'd go, "Oh!" and give her a call, we'd chat, then we'd carry on our merry ways until the time came for someone to visit the other. This year is no different. Except this year, I didn't realize I was angry. Last week, I spent an incredible half-week with like-minded, Christian fantasy writers at a re...