When someone asks me how I am, I'm inclined to answer. I love story telling. That ten-year-old in me hasn't learned yet that what they really want me to say is, "I'm fine thank you."
They cringe lest I say, "Oh I'm so glad you asked...the ambulance is at the door and..."
They cringe even more lest I say, "You'll never guess what just happened."
There are people I have known for forty years and I still have yet to get it through my head that they really really really are just trying to be nice or cordial. THEY DON'T WANT TO KNOW HOW I AM! THEY HAVEN'T TIME TO LISTEN! THEY'RE TOO BUSY DOING IMPORTANT THINGS!
Don't they know? We ten-year-olds are always involved in important stuff. We have to orchestrate the daily operation of the world or at least that part of the world that we can have input on operating.
If I thought that I was the only one to experience this, then I would now that some serious therapy was in order...not just the occasional Reiki session attended by a crowd of the departed much to the astonishment of my Reiki master.
I have yet been able to squelch that ten-year-old in me enough to just gulp and say, "Fine thank you...and you?"
The picture is that of a two-year-old with whom I spent the day yesterday. I identify with the expression.
I like the way little kids don't feel obliged to smile. We just had photo day at school and the imperative to smile was overwhelming. All this showing of teeth had the look of some kind of tribal chimpanzee ritual. There's a book of sewing patterns I like to look at occasionally and the child models aren't smiling. The photog. didn't seem to mind their serious little faces staring back at him with expressions that ranged from indifference to polite forebearance - the kind that only emperors and tiny children seem capable of. (Sorry about that preposition.)
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