Was it weird fucking my mother? Yes, but no weirder than what had taken place to bring me to her bed in the first place. I'd been doing my sister for ...ome time and hadn't been hit by a bolt of lightening. What I did think about was what it was going to be like living in that house from now on and I wondered if I could handle that.On the bed under me mom had stopped making her sharp cries and she was staring up at me with an unreadable expression on her face and I just had to take another shot. In doing so, they free us up to fear our next car payment, the supposed slight of a lover, the impression we will make at the company picnic. We cloak ourselves in the fear of living our lives. We see our lives not as magical gifts to be treasured, taken, emptied of every last drop of sustenance. Oh no. We see our lives as something to be endured, gotten through, to get even with. The path of most people’s lives, leaves a trail of unopened doors, behind which lay the magic of life never. More

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