>>The day I left for university, with my father driving me, we had not completely backed out of the driveway before she had filled the rubbish bins outside the house with my old school uniforms, boxes of the poems I had written, and other cherished possessions — now just clutter to be cleared away.<<
The woman hated her mother.
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So it seems.
Why would you interpret the writer’s mother throwing all her things away as she left for college as the writer hating her mother? It sort of sounds the other way around to me.