I google "topical Tuesday" looking for inspiration. The results bore me.
Topical Tuesday Tip Off -- Connective Tissue
Topical Tuesday: E-mail Snafus Can Happen to You
Topical Tuesday -- Puppy Mills
[Heavy sigh]
I know what I want to write about. . I want to write about all the things I can not write about. I want to write about little, insignificant things that become much bigger than they are.
During the dog days of summer, a hose was left on. . .probably a bit more than a trickle but less than a stream. It slowly seeped into the lawn over a period of days. It was the unintentional oversight of a young boy. Nothing could suck the water back into the pipes. What was done was done. At least, that was what I believed. Use it as a teaching moment and move on.
This view was not shared by the other half of the parenting equation. The air sizzled and cracked with an angry eruption. I walked away. At least, I tried to. Apparently, this issue was still alive. Today, I was summoned to view a water bill. "See, that hose left on cost us $40."
I felt annoyed. I expected the figure to be much higher. $40 seemed like a bargain. A bargain we can't afford but we can't afford most things. I've learned to let go. It's better than being upset all the time. I don't need to look for reasons.
"See, that cost us $40. I knew it would increase the bill," he says again.
I've been home less than 15 minutes. The dog leaps for my attention and "hello" pet fest. My daughter is eager to tell me about playing second flute and needing to practice and my husband wants to show me a water bill to justify rage.
"I'm not sure what you want from me. Do you want me to rubber stamp your getting upset? Do you want me to say, 'Your anger was justified? It was worth upsetting everyone?"
"Do you think it was ok for him to leave the water on?" His voice rises.
"No, I'm not saying that. I'm objecting to getting upset about something that can't be changed. What is done is done."
I start to feel angry but not about the hose. I felt angry that I was expected to get angry.
"Forget it, just forget it." He throws up his hands and leaves the room.
"I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry I did." He is angry, again.
I follow and try to say as calmly as I can, "What reaction were you hoping I'd give you?"
"Forget it" he says again.
But I can not.
The words and the anger behind them fester inside of me. I don't want to be angry but I am. The anger is still fresh as I struggle to write about something other than my frustration. The words keep circling around the issue. There is no escape. . . no one to talk to except the blank screen.
No comments:
Post a Comment