The heavily colored area—it became a shade dingier—after I knocked over her decanter and there was the sourish smell of the wine.
I saw Mother reaching toward the spill, but the time that was left to her was so scant as to be immaterial.
The little incident of the accidental spill had the fast pace of a race, hitherto neglected or unknown.
“Go home!” Mother said. And I didn’t look so good to her she said. “How dare you tell me what to do—when you threw me away! You threw your brother away, too!”
Within a month, Mother was dead.
I inherited her glass carafe with its hand-cut, diamond-and-fan design, which we now use on special occasions.
We do well and we’ve accomplished many excellent things.
“Don’t do it that way!” I had cried. My daughter had tried to uncork a bottle of wine, but since I thought it was my turn, I took it from her.
Here are other methods I use to apply heavy pressure: I ask her where she is going, what does she want, how does she know and why. She should increase her affectionate nature, be successful and happy. Mentally, she must show me she has that certain ability to try.