I am the wild hair of anger. I frizzle like I've been cooked by a too-hot curling iron. I am angry because my mother is old and forgetful and because she is steadily disappearing in front of my eyes, as if she is related to the Cheshire Cat and on her way to the dark side of Wonderland. I am angry because she has not invited me to come with her — look, there she goes, blurring like a watercolor painting left in the rain. She dribbles and chuckles at jokes no one else can understand. I cry, "Mom, come back," but after 50 years of listening to every word I utter, now she has stopped listening to me. I think she's even stopped seeing me, and now it's as if I do not exist, so that's why I'm so angry. If you do not exist to your own mother, then where are you? Lost in Wonderland, along with the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter and that furious ranting Red Queen. "Off with her head," screams the Queen, and sure enough the Cheshire Cat appears and steals Mom's head, leaving only her timid smile fading into nothingness.