If we were having coffee, it wouldn’t be for very long. I’m not feeling very well, you see, having gotten my first cold from the Wee One, who picked it up at a play group meet up. You groan in understanding. This will not be the last cold, you tell me, and you relate times your kids got you sick. Something gross happened one time, and I shudder.
If we were having coffee, I’d ask about your plans for the week, and you would tell me all the things you’re doing with and for your family. Then I would tell you about the dryer repair man fighting with the electrician about what isn’t powering our dryer. This coming week, I’m finally going to have them in a room together and they can go back and forth directly rather than through me. You’d make some wry observation and I would laugh, and then have to blow my nose.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you about my Wee One, how she has started playing with Tupperware and Mardi Gras beads, and having sensory play with my scarves. I would talk about her still sleeping with me, and you would remind me about your own daughter. You would be so loving towards her and encouraging to me, and I would be so grateful that I had a chance to catch up with you.
•With my friend Tracy