How To Tell Your Mother There Will Be No Grandkids In Her Future
Don't enter conversations about generations. Use the art of misdirection. Tell her the rain is falling. Tell her today you saw a cardinal, her favorite bird, and it was feeding its young seeds. No. Better not mention the young. Tell her, instead, the garden is coming in thick this spring, and the tulips have multiplied, their buds like hands in prayer. Better yet, tell her about the work crying in your briefcase. Tell her you wish you had three lives: one for work, one for your dreams, and one for her. That one will have as many Siamese warriors as she wants, swinging on a tree as wide as an ocean, its limbs twisting and turning. In that life, they listen, those warriors, for the sound of her voice. They wait for her to emerge from the jeweled temple.—Ira Sukrungruang
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