abecedarian for a housewife
Mar H.
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I spend a lot of time thinking about who I would be in a million different worlds. This woman, who I’ve always personified as Grace, has followed me around like a “Rosemary’s Baby”-esque shadow since I was a small child. I was ten or eleven when she began to feel less like a ghost (ancestor?) and more like an inevitability. Her spirit gnaws at me until I write her free. I sometimes imagine that “abecedarian” is what goes unsaid in her mind as she teaches her children the ABCs.
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Creativity is a tangible manifestation of the best and worst bits of us all. It is the product of any need or idea or memory that lives in your heart or sits on your tongue or pulls at your skin.
