runaway train of thought
Pouring myself a glass of tea, my eye is drawn to a picture on the refrigerator. A 50th anniversary photo of a couple who were/are friends of my parents. Flash back to an hour or so ago, and a piece on NPR about how on the 5th, Memphis is having some sort of celebration for the 50th anniversary of "the birth of rock n roll". And there goes that runaway train of thought.
My mom died 2 years ago on the 5th, about 2 months short of my parents' 50th anniversary. Still, I assume they were actually together for 50 years. But I don't really know. I don't know how my parents met, or how long they dated, etc. etc. Suddenly, I get one of those little revelatory thoughts... the ones that hit you out of the blue, and you have no idea why they didn't occur to you sooner. Why don't I know those things? I KNOW why I don't know those things. Because my family didn't, and doesn't, TALK.
Again, just as suddenly, it occurs to me that that could be part of why I sometimes want to talk far too much for my own good.
My mom died 2 years ago on the 5th, about 2 months short of my parents' 50th anniversary. Still, I assume they were actually together for 50 years. But I don't really know. I don't know how my parents met, or how long they dated, etc. etc. Suddenly, I get one of those little revelatory thoughts... the ones that hit you out of the blue, and you have no idea why they didn't occur to you sooner. Why don't I know those things? I KNOW why I don't know those things. Because my family didn't, and doesn't, TALK.
Again, just as suddenly, it occurs to me that that could be part of why I sometimes want to talk far too much for my own good.