Thu, 19 May 2005

this is not the time
When Ana was thirteen, her mother told her that the one thing she regretted no longer being able to do was visit her friends, and Ana, who wanted nothign so much as to help her mother in that last year, told her mother that she’d gladly visit her mother’s friends and announce her intentions and condolences that she could not attend in person. They agreed this was a good idea, and so Ana got gussied up in her impress teh adults clothes and took the car around town, stopping often at convenience stores to ask directions, until she visited all of her mother’s friends and announced how she was dreadfully sorry that she couldn’t attend herself but certainly wanted best wishes (and in one case a speedy recovery). This is where Ana learned to put on her professional face, friendly but formal, her voice a bit flat, her movements a bit slower than usual. This is how she started talkig to me after I told her the thing I promised myself I would never tell her, the thing about why I’ll never have children and she hung up the phone and called back five minutes later and announced that she was dreadfully sorry she had been so rude before, and has the deepest sympathy for my situation.
(12:26.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #