AUTHOR
Ah, you my dear, sweetheart! Did my words catch the glint in your eye? And, old neighbor. Your acid tongue stings worse and with more purpose in my prose. And you, dear sister. Your eyes stare fish-like even now. Do I capture them well? And, mother. You, mother. You.(The MOTHER moves.)
MOTHER
I am still when I choose and I move when I choose. AUTHOR
So you are. So you are.MOTHER
I do not stand like a fossil, bones re-hinged and joints moving as you desire. I speak my mind.AUTHOR
I long for it so to be.MOTHER
Your sister and I, and all the other women, we have thoughts, feelings, which none but we can express.AUTHOR
And so you do. Which is as it should be. For a responsible author brings in the voices of others.(He helps his mother back to her stand and dusts off her rickety joints.)
THE END.
