Fellow whistles loud and tuneless. It’s a maddening and utterly endearing sound. I love how much he doesn’t care. He plays puppy tug-a-war with one hand and the other works out his weekly schedule on the computer. He’s asked me about something I JUST TOLD HIM five minutes ago. I smile at him, repeat the information as though it were fresh, and tuck my toes next to the fire. Good wife.
I have written four short films this week. None of them are masterpieces but all of them are fun with a hit of poignancy. Sums up my career, give or take an Espresso. I guess I’m okay with that. My two plays in development are getting critiqued: a welcomed and necessary part of the process. My publisher has come back with the announcement that I must make some significant changes to my novel before they sign a contract. I have no idea what these significant changes are yet. I like the novel. I thought it was complete. How silly of me. They haven’t “compiled” the notes from the editors. I wait for the piano to drop on my head. Part dread, part excitement. I do like a challenge.
My daughter is still at her friend’s, eating pizza and doing acrylic nails. She is the acrylic nails queen, churning out fearsome talons every week. She is having fun. She is carefree. But she has English homework incomplete. What success am I setting her up for by just letting her be? Honestly, I could give a flying F if she passes grade eleven. My goal as a mother: I want my precious kid to finally B-R-E-A-T-H-E.
Michael has dropped off invitations to distribute for our daughter’s sixteenth birthday. He’s planned this party for weeks. He’s renting a party bus and a hall. He’s done these invitations himself, on the computer. For a person with a brain tumour, this is a pretty herculean task. He’s forgotten that I’ve told him there are two typos when he asked me to read it over. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. This act of courage, this act of love, is perfect the way it is.
I had a delightful chat today with a relative I love quite desperately. I love them more than they love me. It’s always been that way. Maddening and endearing. And today, I thought, “I think that’s okay. The inequity. It’s certainly not likely to change.” I let it be. I am so very thankful for my family: the chosen and the entirely-not-up-to-me. I warm my toes by fire and ponder an endless amount of story.
