By Cheryl Miller-Fitzgerald
“Not like that, Jenna, like this.”
I take the triangular puzzle piece my one-year-old daughter is trying to force into a round hole and hear my mother’s voice.
Just yesterday she told me not to put the new red sweater she had brought Jenna in the wash because it would run. I did it anyway, and I didn’t tell her when it not only turned everything pink, but no longer fit her.
I hand the piece back to Jenna. She struggles with it as I hold my tongue. This will take some getting used to.
“Lights out,” the prison guard calls.
Good story, but what’s going on here? Is the woman in prison with her daughter???
Please clarify. . .