Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Dear Winton,

Thank-you for never locking your car door.  I ask you every time we get out, and yet you, seated directly behind me the driver, seldom do.  Sometimes I notice, and lock the door myself.  Often I don't.

Today I was in the Dulaney Plaza parking lot, in the bright sun, with the trunk open while I read the amoxicillin prescription the endodontist gave me.  I can't handle giving up caffeine (which allegedly might make my migraines less severe) and recovering from a "re-treat" on a root canal because of an abscess, so I was taking my pill and then heading in to Starbucks for an iced latte.  And what the hell, I was thinking.  My head already hurts, and  my mouth hurts, so I might as well. 

Distracted by abscessing self-pity and thick with self-justification, I shut the trunk, keys inside.

"Damn, F*ck, Ouch.  Damn!" I said, squinting at the too bright hot tarmac, and then I tried your door and it was unlocked.

And I climbed in, and pulled the latch for the trunk, and retrieved my keys and it was good.

My sweet, curly-headed, quietly disobedient boy.  Thank-you.

In this and so many other ways your being yourself in spite of me and what I ask of you is simply wonderful.



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