It’s an easy accident. Just a bump really. The kids hardly notice over the sing-song gadgets snuggled in their laps. Even so it’s a call to the police, a jam in the schedule, a later night to bed then planned.
Then it’s a meditation on the habits of being human. Namely, love.
“Why did you call Daddy?” Ivy asks. I say it’s because I want to let him know what’s happening, but when I think about it, long after the girls have gone on to deeper subjects (think Shrek in the bathtub), I realize it has more to do with us at large.
Relationships form patterns. Their own cadence and expectation. Who do I call when something doesn’t sit right? My husband. He knows how to talk me down or chill me the fuck out. I’ve known him for more than half my lifetime and I honestly don’t know what I would do without him. I made up my mind a long time ago I’d probably go it alone. People are everywhere, but they’re incredibly hard to find.
Your turn: Who matches your pattern?