Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Waking To A New Year

Way past the time I was her "daughter" Florence would come visit, sit in the kitchen because that's where the booze usually was and there was a chair in the corner.  I'd lean against the sink and listen to her ruminate about her life.

I was asleep, she'd say.  I was asleep all my life.

I didn't quite understand.  To me, she was always awake.  Just someplace else.  Especially in those kitchen-visit days.  She was running wild like a 65, 70 year-old teenager, dancing with girls and having high-drama love.

I didn't quite understand that she was trying to wake up and rebuild a life she had slept through.  

The thing about sleeping is you don't know you are until you aren't.

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Yizkor (Remember) For Florence

The Old Bag

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