Trophies

I always swore I would never repeat what I perceived to be the folly of my mother.


I loved my mother.


But I learned early on that, whereas most people act to move on from insult or injury, for my mother, any slight, perceived or otherwise, was to be remembered.


Remembered is to mild a term. Everyone remembers, but not everyone forgives.
My mother preserved these insults. They were like trophies placed on a shelf just out of sight but always readily available to be taken down, polished, and examined. Sometimes forgotten, but at a moments notice it could be moved to a more accessible shelf, dusted off and poured over. Prioritized.


Somewhere along the way I built my own wall of shelves, and though sparse at the start, the collection is starting to grow. The trophies themselves getting slightly larger and being made of a more durable material. Slights and insults are making their way into the collection.
Mike forgot to send me the eBooks he's been promising for ages. He's on the list.