Thursday, September 18, 2014
My parents split up when I was three. For a long time they remained in touch "for the kids", except we left home over 25 years ago and they still see each other twice a week.
"I want to make sure he doesn't need anything" she tells me.
"I visit your mom" my Dad confides "because I need to see if she is OK."
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Imagine if everything around you - music and license plates and phone numbers and snippets of conversation and coincidences - were all part of a jumbled message. I believe there is language all around us and that on a good day I understand a bit of it and it fills me with wonder.
When I was little my Dad told me that pressing the button on the hand break would make the car fly and that he only used it under duress as it was very very dangerous. I knew he was teasing and still when I am stuck in awful traffic I gently graze the button and tell myself it's there for me to deploy as a last resort.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Woman on bus: Wow. I love your boots.
Me: Thank you.
Her: I want boots like that but they don't look comfortable.
Me: They are!
Her: If I walked in them I wouldn't be.
Her: They aren't, right? Be honest.
Me: I have no reason to lie.
Her: I so wish I could get a pair. But I don't want uncomfortable shoes.
I'd complain about her, but we're all stuck on the stories we tell ourselves.