some memories we ignore. others, little half-stories, we tell again and again, trotting them out for friends - and even people we barely know - like scrubbed children. the rosy image parents project, exactly what they hoped and imagined our lives would be: bringing the little child home from the hospital, making silly jingles about the shops and people they passed, turning everything into song. the events in a child's life is unpredictable.

Labels: book, reflections