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The Truth About Cruelty
By 1996, when he sent the farm book, she had been sober for over a decade and was relearning her place in life. Many of her comments had lost their sting after she quit drinking. She lost her venomous touch. We were both more relaxed. Our tempers had dampened with age. I'm not as caddy as I used to be now. One day after she moved to the retirement village, I saw the farm book on her bedside table. She brought a wither. When I pointed it out, she said something dismissive. That was just her. My mother was never capable of real cruelty. Everything I had mistaken for cruelty had been disappointment, heightened emotion