Sunday, January 07, 2007

Charlie has made it clear that he will obey, but he will not speak to me until the collar comes off.

I sang his favorite personal ditty to him yesterday. He looked me straight in the eye and tugged at his collar. Not a word.

I know exactly how he feels.

When I was about two, I slipped supervision and was hit by a car. After ten or so days in the hospital, mother had me on her lap as my father drove us home. I was bandaged and uncomfortable. I wouldn't look at her or speak to her. My discomfort was her fault.

She wasn't to blame. She was outside talking to a neighbor. There were half a dozen older kids in the yard, and I was with my sister behind an ice cream truck across the narrow asphalt street when I bolted as fast as a two-year-old can, right into the path of an oncoming car.

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