Bernstein Hot In Fem Bowling

There is much backstory to how my mother is secretly mine alone and not mother to either of my older brothers. Another blog will tell of Dad abducting the boys and heading for Mexico with my mother to take care of them, to keep them away from their "real" mother. Of how they are raised by MY mother without ever knowing the truth. Until five years after the divorce. Until the night in the bedroom. The night my Inner Child greedily gets exactly what he always wanted. Her.

I cannot see my mother as a person. Yet I will kill for her, kill for the glamorous, all knowing, all loving force who will give me the perfect life if only I can escape. From him. Dad. The badman. I love everything about her. Sexy. Even I can see that. And funny. I have a picture of her where her hair is frosted and teased within an inch of its life, and she wears a silk stole over her bare shoulders. She turns to me with a grin and says the photographer is very good looking, that she is naked under the stole, and that my father will throw a fit if he knows. This is before they mercifully split up, before he steals me away from her.

I am unreasonably proud of her bowling skills. She is a champion. A gigantic trophy she wins by scoring 279 in her final game of a tournament is a treasured possession. Her bowling skirts are always short and her legs are always good. During one championship tournament a newspaper runs a picture of her from behind with her leg kicked high in the air, the unmistakable bowling stance while throwing the ball. You cannot see her underpants or anything, but the headline says it all: Bernstein Hot in Fem Bowling. I am the kind of child who gets the double entendre. Years later I tell my mother that the picture with the article framed is hanging on the wall of my kitchen. She gets upset which mystifies me. For some reason she thinks I must be sitting around with my friends laughing at it, laughing at her. She has no clue. Make fun of her to my friends? I invite them to worship her with me. I bathe in the fact that Mom is Hot in Fem Bowling. I am so in love with her. My attachment is beyond obsessive. Language has not evolved far enough to completely encompass the depth of my madness…