The Invasive Question

I wonder if I’m a vine.

An uninvited intruder into the lives of the normal.

A clinging, alien beast that few (except the Chicago Cubs) desire.

I spent the morning yanking all manner of vines from my parents’ beautyberry bush.

Was it an act of vicarious yanking?

An ironic de-vining of myself from my burdened family?

Probably not.

I fear, I’m much more invasive than a simple vine.

Until tomorrow…


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