The pyramids were white
Him: It’s a regret of mine, that I never met Alison.
Me: You woulda loved her. She was great.
Him: I also really didn’t know you before she got sick.
Me: I was…better.
Recently spoke to three different women that I spent time with after Alison died, purely by happenstance.
They each told me, in their own ways, that I was not very nice to them (to put it mildly). I can see that. I’ve repeatedly said throughout the years that I’m not a very nice person.
It’s somewhat related to that old quote from Margaret Atwood I told you about years ago:
Wanting to meet a writer because you like their books is like wanting meet a duck because you like pate.
I’ve always been a good writer and a bad person. Suppose some things are constant.
First: I really liked you and you took advantage of me.
Me: I wish I could tell you I remembered or that I didn’t do it. But, that does sound reminiscent of me. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
Oddly, that Atwood entry was about kindness, and these women reminded me just how unkind I can be. Not that I need much reminding.
Second: You made me feel uncomfortable.
Me: You were never anything but kind to me. I’m sorry. Let me know how I can do better.
It made me think of the more recent entry I wrote where I told you that all those Greek and Roman statues you see as white were all painted in bright colours once.
On the flip side, for 3,800 years, the pyramids were a bright white. Then in 1303 CE, an earthquake happened that changed their look to what you know now.
Been working with Chad every single day since the middle of July. I find it odd that he only knows this broken version of me.
I think I was better when she was alive. Something good died in me when she died, I think. Maybe the best parts of me.
Him: You’ve been a good friend to me.
Me: Have I? I wonder about that. I have my own horse in this race.
Just wanna have enough good left in me to raise the boy so he’s better than me.
My mom also broke my heart this past weekend, but for an entirely different reason.
Her: Today’s Chinese Father’s Day. You know, your dad would always buy a lottery ticket and he’d always win.
Me: Really? I never knew that.
Her: Oh, nothing big, nothing big just a few dollars here and there but he won a lot. I never won anything. (quietly) Well that’s not true I guess I won the lottery when I met him.
Me: (sighs) I think you both won.
Location: riding around Riverside with the boy, early this morning
Mood: resigned
Music: Damaged, but I’m copin’, holding on and hopin’ (Spotify)
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