Momma Told Me: Don't bother to run, you can't escape.
I still recall the first time I met my Aunt. I was 11, entering the sixth grade, and one of the first of my friends to make this special introduction. Momma had warned me about Flow for years, so I was prepared physically, but hardly ready for the emotional and mental challenges of tackling this unwanted family member. In the beginning we got along fine enough; as fine as one can with a relative that moves in, uninvited, for a week and throws raging parties inside your personal space at all hours. Then, at 12, Flow went through a mid-life crisis. Her visits became more erratic, and longer. Her wild parties kept me up all night, and even left me with hangovers that forced Momma to pull me from school. Like most unstable relatives we're forced to live with, I was given pills (or rather, the pill) to help me cope with the side effects. Still, for years, Flow and I hardly spoke; I learned to tolerate her visits, and little more.
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