Forty-five minutes or so ago I come home from work and the first thing out of my dad's mouth, after hi, is "I'm starving. Are you cooking?" I affirm that yes, indeed, I am making dinner, and as I go in to the refrigerator to start getting out food to prepare--the first thing *I* do after hanging up my jacket, by the way--I ask him why he didn't eat the three leftover chicken legs for lunch, because if he had he wouldn't be "starving." Well, apparently he didn't know they were there because he didn't look. He also didn't look at the second shelf, where there were canned peaches that are for him alone. But despite this failure to actually look for something to eat when he is hungry, the blame for his starvation apparently lies on my shoulders--not that we're casting any blame stones, you understand--because I forgot to buy him any CheezIts this week. Whatever. And I'm supposed to be fattening him up.
Then he starts telling me about the Kentucky Derby coverage, not that I've evinced any interest in same, and how many people are there and how apparently *they're* not afraid of the swine flu. This segues to a remark about how he hopes I don't get the killer flu...because then who would take care of him and D?
I'm not making that up.
So when D comes down for dinner, I ask him. "If I were to die from the flu, would you miss me because you miss me or would you miss me because there'd be no one to make you supper?" He picked the former. (Because, say what you will, I did not raise any idiots, yo.)
But, you know what? This is seriously what I think at times when I am down. That every single person in my life who supposedly cares about me cares about me solely for what I do for them and what I give to them, whether that's dinner and clean laundry, advice to the lovelorn, massages, emotional support, or what-have-you. I know, I hasten to add, that that's not true. Certain of my friendships are totally uncontaminated--if that's the word--with any taint of this and I do know my son loves me (even if it is hard to separate out from the "yes, I know I can trust you and count on you to always be there for me" as a basis for that love). But when things are really dark, it is what I irrationally feel.
And inadvertently insensitive remarks from old men DON'T HELP. Such as.
xoxo
4 comments:
I think it was one of those Miller Lite "Man Laws" (or it ought to be) that once a guy has been left with a fridge-full, he loses all standing from which to make any other comment beyond "I really like it when you leave me with a fridge-full". (Proof of which is that even "I can't live without you" would be taken as selfish under the circumstances).
As for the swine flu and what might become of the world without Andrea, we could try starting your dad off with a prepaid cell phone and a stack of take-out/delivery menus. The rest of us could be a bit tougher to manage, but maybe if we're lucky we'd catch the virus, too.
Cuz we'd be missing YOU in a big way.
Well, here's the problem w/ Helen Keller. He can't see to read a takeout menu and he can't hear on the phone unless you're shouting at him (which, I dunno, the pizza guy is loathe to do, go figure).
So basically he's right. He'd starve to death without me. :-)
Teach him to text? There's a pizza place down the street here that takes orders that way... All we need to do is find a cell phone with big enough buttons.
And they make cell phones with nice beeg buttons just for us old phahts.
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