It’s rare — though less so now that I’ve crossbred longreads.com (content) and Pocket (delivery system) — that I come across something really and truly worth sharing, but here’s one you’ll thank me for later: An Open Letter to the Girl I Pretended To Have a Crush On in Eighth Grade.
The truth is … I lead a small life. I’m not crying over that; it’s what I chose and it’s a good life. That the space that used to be filled with reminiscence and regret is now overrun with laundry and vaccination schedules, with cutting food into tiny pieces, that’s not something I need to apologize for. I do feel sorry that my writing is not as lucid or poignant as I know it can be.
Part of what holds me back, I think, is a general unwillingness to “go there,” to the young places identified in the open letter. I didn’t really like being a kid, you know? Burgeoning responsibility without real autonomy. And pretty much an overwhelming sense of dread, without the existential understanding that it wasn’t some kind of punishment but rather just the way things are. Pretty grim as new normals go. So whether it’s a depth that gets plumbed by a professional for $120/hour, or just stuff I think about as the hot water tank empties twenty minutes into my profligate ablutions, it’s not really The Happiest Place on Earth. All rights reserved.
That’s the kind of stuff I’m thinking of when I realize that all I really had to share today was a funny story about breakfast. I feel like Kramer that time he bought Newman’s bunion stories: “How much did you pay for them?” “Eight bucks! I think I got ripped off!”
But it’s all I’ve got, so here you go:
Me (to Seve, who had eaten his entire breakfast of cream of wheat, blueberries, persimmon and supplemental pear): “Good job, fruit bat!”
P: I’m so glad you ate such a big breakfast.
Me: I read somewhere that you should eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a price and dinner like a pauper. Portion control and blah blah blah.
P: I think you should eat lunch like a princess.
Me: Ha. I demand MORE CRUMPETS.
Juno: CUH-PITS! CUH-PITS!
The fact that she’s paying such close attention is only further evidence that I should have spent at least $10.