a true story from a long time ago

Hey.
Hey.
You headed home?
Mm-hmm.
Are you okay?
Yeah. Yeah. Just feeling quiet.
Should I not talk?
No, you’re all right.
Oh. Pressure. I don’t know what to say now.
Well, what were you going to say before?
I don’t know. Anything.
Were you going to make me laugh?
Probably. I like your laugh.
I stole it from my mom.

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I think the above is true for pretty much every aspect of my character—my art, my handwriting, my love of home, that crazy voice I like to talk to cats with: it’s all hers.

And now she’s up and taken us through Italy, Switzerland, Austria and Germany without a stumble, innately knowing North from South and switching languages just as frequently as we crossed borders. Isn’t she just first class? I am glad, at least, that I managed to nab that laugh. And I'll keep striving, of course, for all the rest.