2 - Ginevra

Ginevra didn't make much of an impression at first, with her frizzy hair and too-big clothes with one shoulder always poking through the neck of her top kind of like I think girls dressed in the '80s, only I'm thinking of skinny high school girls, not fifty-year old Ginevra (and I won't say anything about her skinniness or lack thereof). Then I looked at her more closely, and changed my mind. Perhaps it was because she had a crooked nose and if I looked from her right side it looked a little like mine, or because she wore a pearl necklace like everyone else's mothers did. And, to be honest, my hair was just as horrendously frizzy as hers.

I used to think other kids were lucky, because they had mothers. But then, I must've got lucky because I got a mother too. More so, because I chose mine.

1 - Getting the ball rolling then...

She told everyone this day would come, at dinner parties, at the beach, she even had a long and boring conversation with my ballet teacher about how it would come to this, eventually. Funny how I don't remember any of their faces, the ones who smiled politely and nodded at her mad ramblings. I will never forget her face though; I will never forget Ginevra Agostini, the woman who pretended to be my mother.