So why is that I feel so left behind? So far behind? A kid dragging her feet in the sand.
My neighbor was telling me one evening, as we took the last bus from downtown to our residence, that she and her boyfriend had plans for the future. The word ‘Future’ doesn’t scare me – I know it’s coming, one of the triplets, like the three stooges, sex-drugs-rocknroll. What bothered me was the word ‘plans’. Because I don’t have a plan.
Maybe if I tried to explain a bit more you’ll see what I mean.
But I was never good at explaining…
So let me tell you this:
In the book Nine Stories, there’s a part that mentions Seymour Glass’ wife wanting her own box of decorations to hang on her Christmas tree. Her own traditions.
The idea of settling (here) is unsettling.
And probably, that is why we don’t have a bed — we sleep on floor mattresses; we refuse to buy a TV set, we own no important furniture, and our Christmas tree has no decorations: only light.
