Framed-art tour, exhibit 11


(It’s not about the onions.)

Don’t trust “should,” she writes. Wherever it’s hiding, there’s a germ. It infects. It festers.

She says it better.

The Mennonite shoulds and should nots wormed deep, chewed up my insides. It doesn’t seem like Ginnie suffered like that in our girlhoods. I’m not sure why. It might be genetic, the DNA’s random twists and turns—our disparate dispositions.

 



 

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