“I don’t have the patience to be a professor. I wouldn’t want to grade papers, prepare for classes, etc. I would rather become renowned and envied in a certain field and then guest lecture.”
“What would you be an expert in?”
“What? What does that mean?”
I will never understand how my mother manages to smile after one of these exchanges. Or how my sister can listen to a revue of metaphors (“I feel like Carrot-top playing Hamlet…the anesthesia before the operation…the Easter bunny on call for every holiday”) and not slug me like any self-respecting Lucy would. They both somehow balance being guardians and audience members.
One day transition will no longer be normalcy, I will stun the artistic and Christian community with style and excellence, and Molly Ringwald will finally get an Oscar.
Until then, it’s just another manic Monday.
she will. and you will.