We sit in the living room of my parent's house: me, Katie, Dawn, Caitlin, and my folks, all shooting the shit after picking us up at the airport. Most of the furniture has been moved out, and my dad has done a lot of work around the place in hopes that it will sell soon, but so far, no takers.
My sister is talking about dreams, and Dad, in a rare access of self-revelation, is talking about a dream he had frequently as a kid, saying, "It's like a bucket of mush: you'd punch it hard, but the bucket would just suck it in. No matter how hard you pushed, you'd just get sucked in."
No comments:
Post a Comment