Gefilte Fish and Ham
(by May Kesler)
My mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was ten or eleven, chestnut curls draping my face as I further hid by sitting in a corner of her room. I was untangling a necklace.
"I dunno," I mumbled my answer, feeling too confronted even though I did want to talk about it.
Still, my mother gently persisted.