Filed under: runaway
So close. Everything seen is “am I going to bring that?” and vague chills of this being kamikaze bubble around my shoulders. Maybe I’m getting too old for this, a lot of people I know are buying homes/baby poppin’/getting serrrrious about careers.
The feeling of possible oldness is the number one reason to do something.
I guess if I could let you in on a secret it would be: I really like cooking for someone. There’s always that concern about placating and subjugation and other messes. F-it. One capacity does not negate the other, a fine pork chop does not a demeaned intellectual ability belie. P.s. I like small children, too.
And in these small moments I begin to have the life I had wished someone made for me and it is no less good making it for myself
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