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It is lonely. Perhaps it would be less so if I had someone with whom to share my secrets.
It seems to be a hallmark of the human species: abysmal communication skills.
When I choose to hear, I hear everything.
Madness. This is how it begins. She’s losing her mind. Because of an offhand remark from a fellow with too many martinis in him.
Caring for her husband as the cancer worked its way through his organs may have taken over her life for a time, but she would not tolerate the paperwork taking over her kitchen counters.
“You know, I never thought I’d live in a small town. Everyone’s so friendly, but also so . . . I don’t know. Up in everyone else’s business?” “We prefer to say we care for one another.”
“Letting go,” Aunt Jeanne says softly, “can be the hardest thing.”
“Don’t blame yourself, dear. Being a parent is not for the faint of heart.”
Humans. For the most part, you are dull and blundering. But occasionally, you can be remarkably bright creatures.
