She is a Mainiac and that makes her dangerous. She believes in herself these days. She knows that she's got you right where she wants you. She can be whatever she chooses but she's always fully female and as dangerous as any you might imagine. She's as ferocious as a grizzly around threats to children whether they're hers or another mother's. She's intelligent and always thinking of a better way to be or do anything. She struggles with her rage and pain so as not to misdirect the fury it can incite. It hasn't been safe or easy in Hell, Maine to survive these past six and a half decades. The world is always at war somewhere. She could easily become a casualty from such retaliations from total strangers. They aren't her enemies but they may be enemies of her state whether that is her state of mind or residence. She's all American and native to the land of her fathers' fathers. She likes the changing of the seasons because change is what living is all about. She's only recently become aware that she is far more powerful than the rumor mill that turns her out. On her best days, she is the best that you could hope for. She can make your mouth water or bring tears to your eyes. She's such a Daddy's girl that her Mama studied her often to see what her attraction was so she became Mama's favorite too.
Most days, she taps away at the letters on her keyboard, sharing her thoughts and ideas. She tends to forget that EVERYTHING isn't about her. A little bit of Bev doesn't go a long way; it usually goes too far. When she stops loving you, she will be sorrier than you may be because love is meant to last. It doesn't last as long as snow people in Hell, even at the poles, which are melting these days. HELL is getting too hot to handle. She used to be until she turned off her furnace. She is a blast from her past and the center of attention at her own party. She can entertain children better than clowns and she's a great story teller. Little ones just call her Bev or NanaBev. They love her dearly and trust her completely. Children need to believe that their mothers are the meanest. She is. When she means it, she's deliberate and steady. She takes careful aim and BLAM! Down and dying! Its usually fatal. Someone or some THING is dying. It may only be who's interested in you. May BE ...She gives you permission to do your OWN thing. You wanna be mad, be damned, good AND mad. I'll give you every reason you need. I'll bake them into a batch of oatmeal cookies. She took no prisoners because she believed in free will.
Her father was the wayward wind, her mother his night mare. She rode both with total abandon as fearless and free as a she eagle.
She never quite fit in or out let alone above or below any other. There were none like her though there may be countless composed of her energy and fiber. Like each crystalline snowflake, she had her own unique points of interest and beauty. Her mind could be as sharp as any needlepoint, her personalities as magnetic as their pointed directions. She loved deeply and completely, absorbing her own pleasures to fuel his until both were consumed utterly in mating passion. When angels breed with demon lovers survivors are fewer than half. Of five seeds that were fertilized, four were carried to term but the first born of each gender failed to thrive three months. The beautiful little female barely lived six weeks and missed her first Christmas.
When death stalks a cradle, it is an omen of things to come. Difficult journeys await. Sweet love can never be forgotten. An angel needs many gifts to survive that mother's hell. Hope is one of them.
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