My Mum Resented Me

My mum resented me.

She even used the word.

I was as young as seven, and I never knew what it meant.

It was said in a rage escapade—banging around, slamming doors, yelling, and growling.

Storming through the door after a long day at work to see everything she wished she could be standing in front of her.

But not as a human. Not as a little girl—

as some kind …