sadness

On Borrowed Time…

view from my desk_peter monn

As I was sitting in front of my computer tonight, waiting for Alex’s family to come over for dinner, I was thinking about how much my mom loved having people over on Sunday nights.  She would invite a few people over and we would all sit around the dining room table and eat chili and raw apple muffins or chicken curry with homemade garlic bread.  Later, after the other guests would leave, my mom and I would sit in front of the fire and drink coffee while talking about a range of topics from her desire to have Hilary Clinton as president to the best Woody Allen film to random memories of her being a Pi Phi.  The night would drift on as we would play Bob Dylan and Neil Young records, smoke cigarettes and the stories would turn funnier until we would both be rolling in laughter.  Finally, it would be time for me to go home.  She always asked me to stay overnight, but I always refused, desiring to be in my own bed.  Now Alex and I live in my mother’s home and I sleep here every night.

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