Today is one of those days when it's very, very hard to play the Glad Game.
This morning, I was happy to talk to Dad and Bro and Sis. They told me about their week and asked, of course, how college was.
Then:
-You're coming home the weekend of the 12th, right?"
-Of course! It's my birthday.
-Good, good... Uh, you know I'll be in Italy until the 13th, right?
-Yeah. But I would have liked to see you for my birthday.
-Ma fille, that conference has been planned for a year.
-I know. But still. I'll be back in the City by the time your plane gets back.
-The reason I asked was because, well... Your mother is leaving for France on the morning of the 12th. So you'll be taking care of your siblings for that weekend. Je suis désolé.
So that's it, then. My father will be doing math on the other side of the Atlantic, and my mother will be leaving us for approximately forever.
On my birthday.
I really want to remember the good things that happened today, the conversation with my aunt this afternoon, the picnic with Highly Selective Science Program, the new people I met, the card games on the old tables in the common room, the National Geographic article I had to read for homework, the splendid Texas sunset.
But really, I can't stop thinking that on Friday the eleventh, I will be stepping into a house with a Mother packing her suitcase, an empty spot at the table where Father should be, a Sis who will be laughing so that you can't see the tears, and a Bro who will act silly and not look at anyone because big boys don't cry.
And I'll put my stuff down and do homework and make dinner, and all that there will be on the TV we don't have is memorial programs for 9/11.
This morning, I was happy to talk to Dad and Bro and Sis. They told me about their week and asked, of course, how college was.
Then:
-You're coming home the weekend of the 12th, right?"
-Of course! It's my birthday.
-Good, good... Uh, you know I'll be in Italy until the 13th, right?
-Yeah. But I would have liked to see you for my birthday.
-Ma fille, that conference has been planned for a year.
-I know. But still. I'll be back in the City by the time your plane gets back.
-The reason I asked was because, well... Your mother is leaving for France on the morning of the 12th. So you'll be taking care of your siblings for that weekend. Je suis désolé.
So that's it, then. My father will be doing math on the other side of the Atlantic, and my mother will be leaving us for approximately forever.
On my birthday.
I really want to remember the good things that happened today, the conversation with my aunt this afternoon, the picnic with Highly Selective Science Program, the new people I met, the card games on the old tables in the common room, the National Geographic article I had to read for homework, the splendid Texas sunset.
But really, I can't stop thinking that on Friday the eleventh, I will be stepping into a house with a Mother packing her suitcase, an empty spot at the table where Father should be, a Sis who will be laughing so that you can't see the tears, and a Bro who will act silly and not look at anyone because big boys don't cry.
And I'll put my stuff down and do homework and make dinner, and all that there will be on the TV we don't have is memorial programs for 9/11.
2 comments:
Hell, Archduchess, you really are having a bummer of a time. Even the most ardent follower of Zeno would be hard pressed. I wouldn't even know where to start with the Glad Game on this one. All I can do is utter the Maori saying in support of someone going through stressful times: Kia kaha - Be strong.
Just catching up on your blog and was enjoying your happiness at varioous thinsg science and then got back to this posting. (Yes, I was reading backwards!) Sorry if your birthday will be day of missing people but I'll be thinking of you.
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