What are your thoughts on me sitting in the living room watching hockey on mute while listening to So Smart Sleepytime CD (a classical music compilation that Ryland has had since he was a wee baby) drift out of his room? He’s been anxious lately and I’ve been playing this CD at bedtime to help him and it all just breaks my heart wide open why can’t they stay little. I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.
There is something incredibly appealing to me about watching the snowy landscape roll by on the train. That weak pale sky. The undisturbed expanses of snow, like thick, white ash from a cold, white fire. The bare spindly trees. The pines. The white birches. All of them pausing their graceful dance to bow at me as we pass. It is melancholic yet so deeply comforting.
Ryland was trying to tickle me under my neck and he asks me why my neck feels so wrinkled and I told him it’s just what happens when a person gets older, then I hugged and kissed him good night, closed his door, put on my jacket, got into my car, and drove it off a cliff, Thelma and Louise style, and now I am dead. Only in my case, unlike in Thelma and Louise, I was alone, the cops weren’t chasing me, it wasn’t a cool Thunderbird convertible but a Kia, and the song playing was something by Kesha not an instrumental by hans zimmer.
Life is meaningless and we are all just a masquerade.