Monday, March 16, 2009

Casting a golden light

For all I knew, Jack could have just been a normal thrower upper, but no, he has extraordinary range, distance and vocalization; and complete lack of coordination. In addition, he has the acute ability to wait until you are in your deepest possible sleep state to start jumping up and down on his bed, screaming and spraying the surfaces of his room, with the requisite brightly colored, cran-grape juice and what ever else was making him sick. It was a long night, after a miserable day of really feeling the role that I live, which is basically a unpaid domestic. Each of my sons managed to let me know how little regard they really have for me, or anything I might attempt to have in place to keep people functioning and participating in life's glorious grind.
The extravaganza that led up til dawn had only one positive outcome; Jack told me he was seeing strange and terrible things, and he wasn't dreaming, and I said, from my bed, "then stop looking in the mirror."


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