Attached To An Outcome
For the past thirty minutes, the middle-aged woman sitting across and close to me had been nothing but gentle and patient on what I was arguing to her. Sitting next to me and facing this patient woman was also my mother. She might as well though not be there because she had remained mute during this entire “appointment.” It wasn’t that my immigrant mother couldn’t understand the dialogue or that she didn’t want to help me. She was quiet by choice.