There is an elephant in the room.
But the room is conversation.
And the elephant is my mom.
Or rather what my mom isn't.
Which is a mom.
The elephant has always been there, growing as I grow, settling in. Wrapping its' trunk around our family history roots, until it is just a part of who we are, of who we have always been.
But we all know elephants don't belong in the room. They belong somewhere in the wide open.
So now we all sit in the room. Moving around the elephant. Wishing the elephant weren't there.
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