So many words…
“You are too picky, Miss Sandy.� The words of my friend’s daughter, a thirteen year old. I’ve been pondering the comment since Thanksgiving and have come to a conclusion—she may be right.
However, what I do wish that I could relay to her would be my varying experiences—some good, some bad. I wish I could articulate the degrees of love—both the excruciating pain as well as the immense swell of the heart.
What’s tough is that despite how profound some feelings may be, some of them can never be put into words, and some never should be.
I could only playfully tease her by telling her if she knew what was good for her, she’d avoid men until she was thirty-nine—something my dad says to this day. All I can say is that sometimes it really is hard. It’s hard to discern what is right and what is wrong –especially when someone treats you very well overall.
I guess, I could tell her that sometimes it really is hard—and harder as you get older and become more “mature� and grow into an adult. The lines become less black and white…it’s like vision being blurred with age.
Suddenly, and I don’t know how this happened, Mom isn’t silently exchanging disapproving glances to Dad as the guy I’m giddy for talks with his mouth full, says something arrogant or basically makes a pig of himself.
I get—or have to—trust my own judgment. It’s scary being left to your own devices. It’s scary for me. My mom keeps telling me that “he’s not in California.� She’s convinced…and maybe I’m starting to believe her a little.
December 1st, 2007 at 7:40 pm
Your mom is right he is not in California. Keep up the great articles….