I like that tingle in my toes when you tell me that the water is freezing and still I dip my hand in and I turn to you and say “yea so it is i should have listened to you.”
And similarly it’s funny the way laughter automatically converts to “I told you so”, “What did I tell you”, and “Next time you should pay attention”.
Isn’t it adorable when you wake up on a Thursday with the feeling of Friday, waking up on Tuesday feeling like Wednesday but tragic when you wake up on a Monday feeling like Sunday?
(—If today is my Tuesday it’s your Monday, my Saturday is the start of a weekend, my Monday is a Sunday ending, and Wednesdays I sit and ponder pressed between the pages of the week—)
Forward forward backward forward…
Which child am I, I remember asking my mother, an old dusty nursery book on my lap, reading the “Monday’s child is full of grace, Tuesday’s child is fair of face…” children’s poem.
Which child am I, the one who does not do as told, the one who laughs when embarrased? Who am I to say?
Who knew, while I sat with my hands crossed properly over my desk age six, that I would be the child who’d find solutions in smoke or other highs, aged 23?
Who knew, while I cried over a dead dog, a dead cat, a dead parrot age seven, that I would be the child who put too much trust on emotions, on years, on intuition, age 23?
Do you remember the first time you discovered Beckett while running your fingers over book spines? Who knew? And why do you still question so long after being taught? Because of discovery? Because of curiosity? Because you’re trying to prove something to someone who exists. Because sometimes, you’re trying too hard. And sometimes – no, most of the time – you don’t try at all. But then again, who knew?
I like the way your smile says “I told you so” when I purposely do something you specifically told me not to —because, you make me want to pay attention, and I’m the child who will listen to you.
