Lunch
Nov 5 · 1 min read
Middle aged women, old friends chatting and lunching. Noodles, fish sauce, lemongrass and bbq pork. Everyone shares and highlights their houses, cars, and yearly salary.
Mom sits quietly in her polyester ill fitting summer flower dress. She tugs at it every time someone mentions “house.” She doesn’t have a house. She strains her smile whenever someone mentions “promotion.” She’s making pennies.
She can’t get promoted unless she finishes her masters. She can’t finish her masters unless she stops working. She can’t stop working unless she stops being a mom. She can’t stop being a mom. She…

