Made-up conversations

It’s been a rough week, hasn’t it? I know I shouldn’t assume, but I assume you don’t want to talk about it. So instead I’ve got some good things to distract you – I hope this isn’t getting old.

I’ve been taking care of my mom lately and it feels good. This week I mowed the lawn for the second time. I knew it was going to rain, the grass was low enough that I could use the chute, and it took maybe 20 minutes. I think my mom really appreciated it though. I’m learning to enjoy that feeling – making her happy.

I also finally stuck my ass to the couch to finish my mom’s resume. And she can’t stop reminding me it was right on time. Not in a bragging way, but in a spontaneous genuine way: “I got a reminder to finish uploading my resume. Can you help me?”

I feel like I should thank you. It’s fucked up that you inspired me to be a good daughter and not just myself, right? I’m choosing to believe that it was always in me but you just brought it out of me. You bring out the best in me sometimes.

I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Thank you.

The rest is a downer. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be OK. I always say it because it’s always true. (OK isn’t great though, either.)

So, please, tell me a story. Make me laugh. You’re always good at that. Or is that too much to ask right now? I just want to be careful, I know you’re fighting your own battles, so I don’t want to ask you for something you don’t have the strength to give.

(But I can’t wait until there’s room for me again, among the chaos that is life.)