Thirty-three and Childless

I remember braiding my mother’s hair in the Summertime before heading out to work in the

garden/yard/chicken coop/trees—endless farm chores.


How she would ask me to hide the patch of grey.

How my sister and I would laugh and tease her.


Little brats. Little slaves.


Growing mortality reminders.

Children—I think I knew then



I never wanted them.