A Storyby Morgan Talty
Some days or weeks or months or years before Mom died, I got her laughing about the Thanksgiving.
“It wasn’t that bad,” she said.
“That one guy had a bag of meth,” I told her.
“Well, he didn’t smoke it,” she responded. “He kept it in his pocket.”
True. He didn’t. But even if he did, I don’t think the night could have been any worse.