This time, the hospital kept me long enough to convince me that shock therapy was an option. I went through a few treatments while staying inpatient, and now I’m home with the promise that I’ll return next week for the last two, and two sheets full of prescriptions.
What was the same when I got home? Nothing. My memory: gone. My dog…well my dog is still awesome. And my husband is reserving judgement on what will happen to our marriage until after the last two shocks.
I can’t blame him, really except I do. Blame him, that is. I can say this: I’m grateful that my partner is such a good father. My kids are OK. At least my kids are OK.
It’s shocking, isn’t it? How much about human relationships can stay exactly the same, even while the actual vehicles we use to interact with each other are turning into space props from the future.
We’re making jokes about how in the olden days we used quarters and put them into phones that stood still. And I’m still not sure what it means, are we better, worse? What would’ve happened to all those totally silent camping trips, and hours-long walks through the city streets, if there was a constant deluge of “MOREFASTERCOOLERBETTER” flashing in front of our eyes. This makes me wonder how anyone falls in love in this age basically predicated on people’s need to compare and adjust their desires against comparisons.
My middle daughter is 8 years old now. I couldn’t fathom even being in the same place for 8 years, 20 years ago. But here I am, not one but three children into the life I ran like hell to escape when I went to North Carolina. My daughter, eight, will be attending a SCHOOL DANCE after class on Friday. A boy has asked her, and when I refused she said “GOD! WE’RE FRIENDS! IT”S NOT LIKE WE”RE DATING!” And I can’t help but think WHAT are these kids watching and exposed to that they are asking each other on dates at 8 years old?
Every generation thinks about previous ones in the rosy glow of it-was-great because it-sucks-here. I know that while raising my kids and grousing about how much less polluted/better educated/better paid the previous generation(s) was, I must also remember that —AHAHAHAHA this is the part of the letter where I talk about how much equality has come to the forefront of our conversations, about how women now, as opposed to women backthen, enjoy equal pay and respect in media, the workplace, and their relationships.
So, future travelers. Just read our missives and create a textbook out of the battles we fought and fought, and ultimately lost.
“Stupid, Jesus is in heaven! Right mom?”
“Heaven isn’t a real place” *slow motion camera pan* OHHH FUUUUUDDDDGGGGEEEEEE
“If there’s no heaven, where do we go when we die?”
uh oh. “Back out into the universe.” (Somebody stop this woman and take away her parenting license)
“SPACE? WE GO TO SPACE?”
“No, it’s just…you never weren’t here, so you’re never going to be gone from here. You’re made of energy, and you’ll just become a different kind of energy. Probably”
“You mean I was something else before I was in your stomach?”
This is getting out of control. Where is her mute button. “Sure.”
Jack: “I was milk! I was milk before I was born!”
Avery: I was in SOUTH AMERICA!
“Sold! Let’s have ice cream.”