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.