A NEW CHAPTER IN THE BOOK OF CRAZY

So my mom is a nut.

Did I mention?

She was mercurial to say the least when I was growing up. One moment would be normal and the next moment she would be stirred into furious frenzy, hurling dishes at the wall or chasing my father with a butcher knife. Sometimes dad had to restrain her while she screamed. That had to be the worst sound ever, my mother screaming. As a child, I thought she was being eviscerated by invisible demons. Just the thought of it make me grind my teeth to powder. Once, she woke me up in the middle of the night and told me we were running away. She drove us around town, sobbing hysterically, while I offered suggestions in my pajamas. I was about six. Most often, she would just climb into my bed after a row with my dad and cry quietly. I recall the thick brown robe she used to wear. It was synthetic, like cheap teddy bear fur and it smelled like house dust. She would make my little bed shake with her sobbing. It was like a wooly mammoth came to my bed in the middle of the night to die.