The Year I Married My Mom
by Bianca Ozeri
I haven’t posted on A Brie Grows In Brooklyn for a while, so I decided to do a life update before I launch into my 2013 commitment to Brienne to give her a post every single Friday for the rest of my life. My apologies to those of you who rely on her to pump up the start of your weekend.
I’m moving into my own apartment on December 1st, which is great news because for the past yearI’ve been my mother’s spouse. Home is currently a two-bedroom apartment that lives my mom, Denise, my sister, Chelsea, and me. Chelsea is getting her masters in social work and spends three days a week counseling inner city children with autism, dyslexia, and Aspergers. She has been afforded the spare bedroom. I fill the extra space.
The extra space includes a corner behind Chelsea’s door where I keep a mass of clothing in a suitcase that I can’t move because there is tar on the wheels; the second sink in my mom’s bathroom; and—here it comes—the right side of her king size bed. It took me about three weeks to say that to my therapist. I’m hoping that airing it to the faceless audience of the interweb will help me heal from it more easily. Help me laugh at its absurdity, anyway.
