Rose looked at the couch not understanding.
This was all wrong.
Always Mom sits on the edge, Dad in the middle,
And I between them.
This was a matter of tradition.
Ten years we’ve had this arrangement.
Ten years and now this.
My best friend stabs me in the back.
Maggie, Maggie how could you?
And Dad did you forget
All those nights we cuddled on the couch?
Oh how bitter the blow!
Look at Dad in Mom’s seat,
Maggie stretched out in MY space,
And Mom where Dad always sits.
Is nothing sacred?
No space for me.
Yes, I could sit on the far side of Mom,
But it would not be the same,
Not after all we’ve been through.
Not while Maggie usurps
My pavlovian role.
I’m just going to sit on the floor
And ignore them all!
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