My Mother’s Disappearances

“The first time I lost my mother, I was six years old. It was the end of spring, in 1996, and I was perched on the armrest of my family’s grey loveseat, watching her sit, legs crossed, in the moss-green recliner. Agitated, she stared past me as smoke ascended from her half-finished cigarette. A Children’s Miracle Network telethon played quietly in the background and she asked me to turn it off because she thought the people on TV could see her. Confused, I tried my best to reason with her, which only made her more uncomfortable. So, I hurriedly grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.”

Lisa Coxon – Hazlitt – March 2018