Oct 29 2008
“you’re crazy.”
my poor mother listening to her crazy-running-around-with-strangers-wild-daughter’s stories whilst 500 miles away.
but maybe the happiness in my voice overwhelms her because instead i thought i sensed a little bit of pride and giggle as she said an all too familiar phase said by friends but never by her:
“you’re crazy.”
agape, i protested, “how am i crazy?! life is meant to be lived.”
“umm… life is meant to be lived…” she chewed on those syllables.
ilana