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The Experiment

In a casual phone conversation, I informed my mother that her thirty one year old daughter would be willingly embracing homelessness. She took the information in stride. Apparently, she’s grown used to this. Maybe she’s learned from experience that any attempts to deter me from a decided course of action merely solidify my stubbornness. Perhaps, she’s grown confident that experiments such as these will bob and weave their short lived course, then peter out once I realize that it’s cold or hot or annoying or I’m hungry. Perhaps the fifteen year old barefoot and impetuous child that lives inside my mother’s chest, the one who remains thirsty for freedom and rebellious against imposed silences


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