Witchy Relatives

     My mother-in-law is a Witch, or should I say Wiccan? I’m not sure. She reads tarot cards, practices reiki, and does something peculiar with stones. Natural healing she states, though I did find the book of black magic on her shelf, next to an instruction manual depicting depression glassware of the thirties.

I mentioned my discovery, in passing of course, and on my next visit the book had vanished. Evaporated into nothingness by some witchy incantation, I don’t know–and truthfully, I don’t care. My mother-in-law is good to me. Kind. She’s welcoming to her grandchildren.

Yes, she offered to chew through the umbilical cord during the birth of my first child, when, slippery with birthing ooze, the doctor’s hands slipped on the scissors. The moment, summed up with raised brows from my O.B. still brings a small smile to my face.

My mother-in-law means well. In the end, nothing else matters.

 

Marie Malo