I didn’t know that a close friend would be happily -- and steadily -- dating, or that another close friend was having sex.
I didn’t know that I would see a play at The Old Globe (Two Trains Running).
I didn’t know that my mother would find her dream condo and would spend her days happily buying dish sets and china cabinets.
I didn’t know we’d go to Disneyland or how Samantha would react to scary rides.
I didn't know that Scoreboard Surprises at Petco Park needs 48 hours advanced notice before posting surprises, nor did I know that they support the Padres Foundation for Children.
I didn't know that wild parrots lived in the United States, much less San Francisco.
I didn’t know that my cat would be diagnosed with cancer.
I didn’t know that my gardener was allergic to cleaning solutions and was spending time at the hospital.
I didn’t know that I would become addicted to blogging.
I didn’t know I’d get published in the Reader.
I didn’t know just how incredibly supportive my friends could be (although I should have).
I didn’t know how my husband would react to having our lives revealed on the Internet (and in print).
I didn’t know that I would meet and inspire a "curious" woman to renew an interest in blogging; and that her blogging would inspire her daughter’s blogging.
I didn’t know that after 36 years, I would be writing nearly every day -- and enjoying it.
And, finally, I didn’t know whether Elizabeth (the painter, the illustrator, the superhero) would have any interest in my writing.
- “What are you doing, Mommy?”
It's late; past Elizabeth's bedtime.
“I’m writing. Did you know that one of my stories is going to be published in a ‘magazine’?”
She leans over an office chair, gently spinning from side to side.
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a story about our family.”
She smiles.
“I like to read stories about our family.”
Me, too.
Previous Comments
Comments