i cried in my mother's arms last night, only to find that she had been on the phone with a man.
she tells me that he is her friend.
i believe her.
if she was having an affair i believe she would tell me.

maybe i am being naive.
but trust is all i have left now, since hope is long gone and desire is something that i am scared of.


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i am looking at the rug in our living room.
when we bought this house in December it was too large. we didnt have enough furniture and the floors were uncovered and cold.
and then we bought a rug.
my father, brother and i made a joint effort to bring it up the stairs from our garage and to unroll it onto the cold tile floors.
we all stood and admired the pattern and complimented my mother on her choice.
she smiled and clapped her hands, jumping up and down and saying how pleased she was.
"oooh i made a good choice didn't i?"
it was happiness that i saw on her face.


sitting on this rug now, covered by expensive furniture that will end up in storage or in my grandparents' home after we sell our house, i feel that happiness as a tangible entity. someone i once knew, was familiar with, and now have no idea how to approach or strike up a conversation with. we are now strangers...
and it's fucking awkward.