A while ago my dear friend Hugh envied my life in a multicultural community after I told an anecdote about the pakistani owner of a Subway I frequent. Yesterday, while I waited for my Dad to finish an echocardiagram, I played peekaboo with a cute little hispanic boy. "¿Donde esta tu mama?" I asked him in my best broken spanish. His little face became very sad and he crawled back to his abuela. One of the older men in the group told me, using his best broken english: "She has heart attacks." "Lo siento," I replied.
Great. Heartache in two languages.
In that moment, I wish I lived in Indiana.
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Notes on theater, politics, and anything else that enters my semi-fevered brain.
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- tommyspoon
- "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting, You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine." -- from "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver
2 comments:
But, thankfully, just in that moment.
Our family is thinking of you and praying for your family.
If all it took was moving to Indiana, we all would.
Best of thoughts headed toward the greater DC area.
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