A Life of Role Reversals

Sunday started.
She held the newspaper clipping above her head and waved it like a Chinese fan.
"Are you saving this to prove what a wonderful man your Father is?"
Sarcastic and accusatory. 
I could tell she was in a manic mood.  Again. 
It must be the final Sunday of the month.
The article had been clipped from a local paper by her sister.  My aunt had placed it on the front seat of my car while I was sunbathing in her backyard.  Her backyard is the Atlantic Ocean.  She is a multimillionaire.
We can't pay the mortgage.
I stared at her.  The way she trembled with tears and anger and confusion.  The way her lips quivered blue as she expressed guilt.  Narcissistic guilt. Self absorbed sympathies.
Angry, shallow, selfish tears fell from her child-like eyes.
And I stared, silently.
Watching my mother unravel in her one hundred, millionth breakdown.
I watched her, feeling guilty.
Guilty I couldn't pay the mortgage.  Guilty I couldn't save their marriage.  Guilty I failed them as a parent.
I failed them. 
I have never been the mother my parents needed.