My mom feeds Buster, a squirrel she named for his busted ear. I watch her squat in the doorway, waiting. After a minute, Buster takes the walnut out of Mom’s hand and growls at two squirrels who approach. Buster pauses and looks at me through the glass with his two black eyes. I pause too—seeing Buster, wondering if his ear injury keeps him from finding food on his own. I think of my own disability, my bipolar, my lithium. Mom once said, “That’s your responsibility.” And she squats close to the ground, feeding Buster with an open hand and love.
Claire Houston is a second-year master's student in English with an emphasis in creative writing at the University of Southern Mississippi. Substack: The Scent Diaries