As Mom does not have regular Internet access, she doesn't read her daughter's blog; her daughter reads it to her. Today, Mom heard "Target Perfect." She was quiet for a few moments, then said it was "brilliant," but was quite completely disturbed by the content and the tone of the piece. Her main concern was about my having felt like doing what the suicidal guy did in the fictional story. I assured her that wasn't what the story was about. In fact, it was far more positive: that, as heartbroken about my life as I am right now, I would NEVER shoot myself, or someone else, in despair. Or anger. Or any other emotional state. That, while there are those who take such measures to kill their pain, I am not one of them. I look, but never touch.
It is as dark a piece as I've ever written. But I'm especially proud of the fact that women whom I love and respect -- my mom, my Bananafriend, and my godmother, Padmalil, a new Zantales reader -- think so highly of, and are affected by, my work.
As life continues to shift, so will the writing, always an accurate reflection of the moment, the heart, the mind, the soul, with which I have been gifted. Gifts I promise I will not waste.
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