"Oh, um, no, English actually," Molly says, the insult going past her without registering. "She was...is a poet, but that doesn't really pay the bills."

Or at least not for her mother it didn't. Molly never took to poetry herself so she can't much judge her mother's talents, but she always acted like she was just waiting to be discovered by some rich publisher. It was a fantasy that she always talked about but never seemed to do the work that would be needed to actually have it come true. She was a dreamer and Molly thought her mother was magical until she got to an age where she could realize that's all she was. And if your world and your own dreams didn't revolve around hers then they were stupid or wrong or unnecessary.