My mother and her mother were not beauty queens. Also, they were a little odd. Had their hangups and idiosyncrasies. Perhaps a few pathologies that remained undiagnosed. But at my grandmother's funeral my mother recounted with her sisters how much fun they used to have as kids standing in the shelter of a Main Street store doorway watching passersby. Their game was to make fun of and giggle at the odd people on the street. Quietly, of course, because they're weren't brave or anything like that. No, they knew what they were doing was wrong, but it was still fun to them anyway. Three girls and their mom, being horrible human beings and bonding over it.
Which is why I'm here. A little like my mom and grandma. I'm almost certain Stephen has me on block. So to him it'll look like this thread is getting views, but nothing will appear (unless I'm quoted by someone he hasn't blocked yet). Is that right?
Anyway, I came to this street corner to laugh.
Ironically, my mother might have actually LOVED conversations with Stephen, about his bizarre metaphysical claptrap. But she was odd too. Anyway, I'm being horrible. It's genetic. Or maybe my mother is reaching out to me from beyond, and the only way she can communicate with me is by making me reflexively similar to her and grandma.
So, yes, I'm laughing. Not out loud. Just the quiet, dickish internet laugh. Elbowing my mom and my grandma as Stephen walks by, and gesturing with that circle thing around my ear with my index finger. My mom elbows me back, and says, knock it off, I was a child and didn't know any better about how rude I was being. But my grandma smiles at me, giggles and makes that circle gesture around her ear, and we both know she's no child.