[This post was scheduled for yesterday, but I was so upset all day, I just couldn't bring myself to publish it.
Whatever else I have got from her or not, letting injustice upset me is an inheritance from my mother, and she will understand why this is a day late.]
She is the perfectionist, expecting nothing less from herself and others. I insist perfection as a concept is overrated.
She is meticulous to the point of putting everything in a list. I let things take their course, trusting they will eventually fall into place.
She drives herself crazy trying to bring order out of chaos. I thrive on chaos.
When two strong-willed individuals are as different as my mother and I, it is natural that sparks fly when we are together.
But the older I get, the more I realize how similar we actually are. Almost Sisters under the Skin.
Happy Birthday, Mamma!_____
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.