Fault Lines       

grew up in a home where my mother took the blame for everything — and I do mean everything. If I couldn’t find my shoes, it became my mother’s fault. If my brother was kicked out of class, or my sister’s test wasn’t signed, it was my mother’s fault. If our book report or diorama wasn’t completed by the day it was due, it was my mother’s fault, and certainly, certainly, if my father left for work without his morning coffee or missed an important meeting, it was absolutely, positively, unquestionably Ma’s fault.

Like everything else.