She says Mama look at that rock, looks like the ducks Grandpa keeps in his basement. He says to preserve the face when you go hunting for minimal damage. “To stiffen the deer and bear cubs and ducks, you gotta replace the eyeballs with marbles.” Something to do with refrigerating with salt. Mama giggles and tells her not to go into the garage. There’s blood under the door so she guesses that it doesn't matter anymore. Just one peek. Every Sunday she would ask: "Mama, what's for breakfast?” and she would respond: “well your Papa is making pancakes again but you can't have more than two alright?” “That sauce is just pure sugar.” It’s her birthday and Mama says "I remember exactly 6 years ago today when I went to the hospital with you, and you were the tiniest thing who could never get enough milk. But by the time you got baptized you were the fattest little thing I've seen." She thinks that's it's a recurring theme. “The craziest thing happened today,” she tells Mama. “I found this shell and we weren’t even on the beach” “I wanna show papa but I think it belongs to someone else” “How did the waves make this Mama? How did they know who it was for?” She says “Mama, the doves are missing from their place.” If you ask her why, she says it’s a touchy subject and to mind your own business. “Don’t meddle with what you don’t understand.” Something about this doesn’t feel right, like an itchy throat and too quiet nights. When the mug broke last winter, Mama said she said she was sad to lose it. That it wasn’t on purpose. That it was taking up space anyways. To clean up broken glass, dab the floor with a piece of bread. To pretend that Mama’s ok, ignore all topics. She wonders who the cherub's mama is, and if she once had wings. She figures he too was born in a lighthouse only to be dropped into the sea. The chill to cool her porcelain and salt to dampen his gold, another China pot of tea. She thinks Mama ran off again, not in hiding, but she ran all the same. Just left. She wonders who gave Mama those little plates. Who is … or … or… Sometimes Mama can be a bit shy and doesn't talk about those trips. Why is Mama so happy but so sad two days later? Now she’s gone again. Who is left to blame for taking Mama’s little wooden man with dark brown hair and a painted face The culprit must have turned him into a tulip and given up on a perfect love. No, the napoleon complex just doesn’t come into it. She’s pretty sure Mama is keeping his petals just in case. Mama gave her a piggy bank and said “I’ll give you my loose change.” Mama always has too much coming back from the bar. Quarters in between cushions, in the vacuum, nickels under the fishbowl, dimes behind her words. “Do what you want, but is it gonna get you far enough?” She found a fish in her candle. Every few seconds it thrashes violently. Less and less as the night grows long, the wick gets shorter, encompassing the fish with wax as it dies. Is this wax now its substitute? Or it just dead and thrashing from the warmth? Or is this warmth an illusion? To find out for yourself, just paint your heart on a candlestick. Mama tells her that she lived on a farm when she was small. She says she had a little dog. When that dog went to heaven, her papa gave her that little figurine. Mama says she tries her best to take care of hers, like her Papa took care of her, although she doesn’t often succeed. Mama says she’s still learning. Mama says it’s a mess. She doesn’t tell Mama that she’s right. "I remember exactly 16 years ago today when I went to the hospital with you, and by 4:30 in the morning I couldn’t take it anymore so I told them to just cut you out. It was so weird cuz you were so small, fit right into the palm of my hand." She showed mama the heart a boy made for her. She said it was a birthday present. Mama didn’t like the boy. She said he looks untrustworthy. “Be careful is all I’m saying” Mama withheld her judgement till the last. Mama is shy about this boy, and tells her not to ask. It seems to be a recurring theme. Mama asked her what’s in the little heart shaped box. The side effects of Xanax are dry mouth and slurred speech. Mama tells her pills are dangerous and smells her coat for other signs of bad behavior. Those with allergic reactions related to benzodiazepine, valium and benzoate should avoid anxiety or depression. Missing out on anxiety? A daily dose of doxylamine instead of chocolate can go a long way. A lot farther than those pancakes. Looking for extra unease and reasons for Xanax? Check in the Easter egg for pentazocine and acetaminophen pills, cough medicine and Excedrin. Then look in Mama’s purse for a refill. Mama got a new car, little house in the south and bought new vases to fit with the warm air and salty scents of ocean. She says she thinks Mama’s worked things out. The Easter celebrations are loud and happy. Egg shells seldom come into it. Now 50 years old, mama says “don’t I look great?” “What a dreamy house this is, what a beautiful life” Meet … And she wonders where Mama has gone off to now. Seems to be a reoccurring theme.