Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I don’t think less of you,” Sam spoke over her for a moment so she stopped running herself down. “I think this is a great compromise between being on your own and, like you said, still having a safety net. And if, after the first year, you decide you want to stretch your wings and go further away, we support that. If you want to move home and commute, we’re in love with that idea too. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we’re behind you a hundred percent.”
I nodded again, agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he’d said.
“In case it’s unclear, we both love you more than anything.”
It was lucky I had the car parked in the garage because Hannah burst into tears, unclipped her seat belt, just as I had, and leaned sideways into my arms. We were both crying and hugging seconds later.
“I’m almost there,” Sam said and hung up.
Hannah and I stayed there until we both could catch our breath. She pulled a box of tissues from the console between us, and we blew our noses and wiped our eyes. When the two of us were finally only sniffling, I showed her the video of Dobby doing the cabbage patch.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice nasally. “I got that too. Apparently, he’s eating the rabbit turds in the backyard again. And that’s bad for him, of course, but the rabbits use their poop for later, so it’s really bad for them.”
I had no idea that rabbits reused their own waste. I learned something new every day.
“Kola had to wash his face and then brush his teeth. He said he used the mint toothpaste and not the chicken-flavored one. When your dog eats poop, I think spearmint is needed.”
Truer words were never spoken.
We got out of the car when Sam came and collected us. Kola had Dobby dancing the hustle when we all got inside.
“I felt that more disgrace was needed,” Kola assured us all.
“I have no doubt,” Sam agreed.
That’s it, everyone. I'll see you in June to report back about Hannah’s graduation party. Have a wonderful rest of May.
JUNE 2022
First off, happy Pride month, all. Second, even though it’s the most important, I don’t know about you all, but I’ve been a mess. Recent events had me hugging and kissing all my kids, Harper and Jake included, and being so thankful that they are all still with me. I will not go off on my soapbox about what we’re not doing as a nation, but I will say that I annoyed all the people younger than me in my house with my constant cloying affection over these last few weeks. My dear sweet husband was not any better. He made all of them, Hannah and Kola and Harper and Jake, all sit with him on the couch when he came home from work on that horrible day, and no one could move until he’d soaked in their presence. It was awkward, thus sincere, and only when he was ready did Sam hug them individually and excuse himself to go upstairs. I didn’t follow. Sam did not like an audience when he cried.
With all that, this is He Said, he said for June, and I will regale you with the uneventful news of Hannah’s graduation party. The word “uneventful” probably caught your eye. The thing was, I thought she’d want the big hotel party, like “rent out a ballroom” kind of thing, and you could have knocked me over with a feather when she said that she simply wanted exactly what Kola had at the height of the pandemic. She wanted a graduation open house where there would be food and non-alcoholic drinks and people could simply pop in all day and night to see her if they wanted and say hello and then leave without feeling like they had to stay. If no one showed up, that was fine too. She was good either way.
“If they think my little party is lame,” she told me, “then they can bail and don’t have to be miserable just because I’m feeling a low-key vibe.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “But if you want the big party, that’s okay, right? You deserve it. You’ve been the perfect kid, and I want you to be happy.”
She smiled at me the way she did when she thought I was being adorable. “But this way, Nana will come, and Uncle Dane and Aunt Aja, and I’ll be able to see everyone and talk before I leave for college.”
I cleared my throat. “College is across town,” I reminded her.
“It’s more ceremonial than anything else,” she said indulgently, shooting me a look as though I should have been getting this. Every now and then, both my kids glanced at me in a way that I knew I’d disappointed them by not following a specific train of thought. It was as though they expected more of me, and for me to come up short involved headshaking and an understanding that I was getting old.