After writing somewhat unkindly but honestly about my mother today and later deleting it from public view, I will be getting what's coming to me very soon. My daughter has to write a short story for her English class in high school. I am the main character. She is writing about the day our garage started smoking and our house nearly caught on fire.
It is a great story and I will leave her to tell it, but her take on it was different than mine. I saw the evening as a blessing - if we hadn't seen the smoke when we did, the house would have been fully ablaze that night. My daughter remembers how I completely misunderstood my husband and thought the worst of him in one small instant. I was definitely wrong that night in the one action that has stayed with her for four years. I will take it however she depicts me and will be proud of her if her writing is honest even if it hurts.
I asked her if she would at least make me pretty on the outside. She laughed and said, "Of course."