By Kirsten Deane
A week before my period my knees ache. My knees are made of a body of just bones. They complain until they reach the skin and then shiver. This is when I know something’s coming my way. My knees could be my sixth sense. One day my daughter will sit on them and fall asleep faster than she planned to. My knees will ache and count the time as the sheep for my daughter. My knees hurt first the day after I take a clumsy, alcohol-induced fall. My knees moan but make me take responsibility for my actions first. I ignore them like I do my mother and like my daughter will ignore her mother.