For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.”
Ugh. True, that, says the woman who has accepted her gray hair, her crackling joints, her…
Don’t make this about you, Princess. It’s about ME.
I’ve got things to say and I’m stuck with you as my amanuensis.
Speak louder and maybe we can do this, she says, as if saying so will make it so.
You are trite.
Be nice or I won’t want to play.
Not sure you’re worth it.
I’m all you’ve got. My fingers on the keyboard, my hand lightly grasping a pen.
And I just want to force it out of you.
Kindness, bub. Gratitude. I got plenty of other things to do: Mop the floor. Take a walk. Read a book.
Sigh. Let’s continue this conversation another time.
Okay. Love you!!
(((((Now what do I say?)))))
Me too is good enough.
Maybe next time.