Tenth of December: Stories

“He’s the King of If,” Ma said. “What he ain’t is King of Actually Do.”

Based on my experience of life, which I have not exactly hit out of the park, I tend to agree with that thing about, If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. And would go even further, to: Even if it is broke, leave it alone, you’ll probably make it worse.

Family life of our time sometimes seems like game of Whac-a-Mole, future reader. Future generations still have? Plastic mole emerges, you whack with hammer, he dies, falls, another emerges, you whack, kill? Perhaps may seem like strange/violent game to you, future reader? Who no longer even need to eat to live? Just levitate all day, smiling warmly

Dad had once said, Trust your mind, Rob. If it smells like shit but has writing across it that says Happy Birthday and a candle stuck down in it, what is it? Is there icing on it? he’d said.

It was that impossible thing: happiness that does not wilt to reveal the thin shoots of some new desire rising from within it.

Sometimes, feeling happy like this, she imagined a baby deer trembling in the woods.

It had once been a mill town. Wasn’t that crazy? What did that even mean?

What she liked was being in charge of her. Her body, her mind. Her thoughts, her career, her future.

What she liked was being in charge of her. Her body, her mind. Her thoughts, her career, her future.