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After mother left the stage, Vivian Hayward became Vivian nobody.

The phone would ring and ring then finally stopped.

The parties faded away…

Buddy nagged and nagged about an Ivy league college.

He turned to alcohol and his buddies.

Father, the “mad” rooster was ever so busy.

The condo was up for sale; expect the unexpected!

Everyday?

Strangers wandered through our living desert.

Too big, too small, just right…

Mother was sick all the time.

It was I who called the Fire Department.

Teddy, my dearest dog barked and barked.

When they went to take mother away Teddy nipped

a fireman’s boot.

The medics looked so serious like on TV in Afghanistan.

Buddy came home to a near faint.

“Get that damn dog outta the way.’

I grabbed Teddy’s collar tight.

Mother finally came home and the condo was sold.

We had two months to vacate.

“What the hell am I going to do on an Island. Dad?”

“Grow up! I can only hope.” Father strode away.

Mother patted Buddy’s hand. He was her confident.

Mother looked like a corpse. Her illness kept its secret.

I considered packing a hundred times.

We were going to Nova Scotia to raise sheep.

I existed in an insane realm beyond reality.