Our Parents

by Violet Hansen

Every time they said “Wait unit you are older,” or, “You have plenty of time for that,” you filed it away under Things That Have Nothing to Do with Me. It felt like a push towards something when they doubted and worried and warned. You arrived early, as was your plan. If they had said, “Do it! Hurry!” you might have bolted for India or even Omaha. You can blame them. Last week, when the car was repossessed, you walked your children to school and wished yourself inside, crammed into a tiny desk with the whole thing to do over.

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Violet Hansen is a pseudonym. The author is currently working on numerous projects and not finishing any of them. She lives in Washington.