I’ve tried to invent the perfect mother. I should be packing boxes, but it’s exhausting stripping a room of history. Connection.
One mother is foul-mouthed, rife with gruff glamour. Smoking cigarettes, with one of those voices like Marlene Dietrich.
She’s the kind who doesn’t pronounce the word, “love.” She shows it other ways. Helping with homework, offering blunt advice about love and the world.
Other times, I invent beatific sorts, who flit about, call me sweetheart and darling with lilting sadness.
Then I go downstairs, clean out Mother’s room. Ship boxes left behind.
Fictitious mothers would never leave a soul.
Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. A recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train, his story, “Strangers,” was nominated for The Best Small Fictions. Mir-Yashar’s work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as Maudlin House, The Drabble, Door Is A Jar, and Ariel Chart.