I wondered what was this woman’s story. I wondered how many other things she had lost under various unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps she gave these things away in a messy divorce? (After all, she was yelling at a child, not a man.)
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A small boy (eight or nine) was on the train with his mother when a homeless person came through the car begging for money. The little boy had some money (a quarter! a whole quarter!). “Mom, can I give him some money? Can I give him some money?” “Sure, honey.” He waved his little quarter [...]
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Yesterday I wanted to have parts of my brain surgically removed. Today I’ll settle for just my ovaries.
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I was interrupted by the sound of two very small people yelling for what seemed like no purpose at all. What the fuck…? Oh, right, it’s Saturday Morning, isn’t it? Time to take the kiddies out to wherever it is the kiddies go on Saturday Morning. God dammit! Hush those kids! I thought. Don’t they know there are hung over people on the train?
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Of course I quickly realized why that was a bad idea when the drunk Friday-night-in-South-Jamaica crowd started hassling me. So I headed back to the station. It made me wonder though not so much why I left the station, but why I went back to it so quickly. Why would I be any safer in the station than outside of it? What was really the difference?
...read more hereThe little girl is three and can pick me up. No seriously. This morning she wrapped her tiny little arms around my legs and I stood on my toes. “Wow, you almost lifted her clear off the ground.” The little boy is eight and can actually lift me off the ground… provided I jump. “You kids are strong!”
...read more here…He was so small. It amazes me sometimes that kids are so small. And he had little tiny hands. And a little tiny voice (which he used frequently and with great vigor). And when he walked, he took little tiny steps. It was hard to take him seriously when he was angry. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about him now. I’m not his nanny anymore…
...read more hereIt’s not even my job to wash the dishes, really… and I don’t like washing dishes in general. But when the kids keep asking me why i won’t play with them at this particular moment, the dishes are a decent excuse.
...read more hereIt’s strange for me to say that my boss will take care of me, but it’s true. I wonder for how many other people this is true? Even now as I type this, I am on my computer but in her house, eating her chocolate frosting out of the can with her spoon.
Granted, it’s a yellow iridescent kiddie spoon … but still.
...read more hereNow I am pacing through my house in the dark, from the kitchen to the living room to the office and back, while drinking a mug of the gourmet gevalia mint tea I brought with me here. I have a confession: It’s spiked with Cruzan Vanilla.
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