Yesterday I met Celia for coffee at our usual place, Heather Blue. Since I'd baked some chocolate chip cookies earlier, I decided to bring some along for her.
As I walked in, the sweet scent of Heather Blue washed over me. I spotted Celia, and joined her.
The owner came over, a sweet retired lady called Heather (obviously).
"Hello dears, how are you?"
"Very well," I replied.
Celia said, "I have a minor viral infection, which I'm rather annoyed about as I have a charity ball tomorrow, and I wanted to try a new lipstick shade, it's a more daring shade of red than my usual, but I suppose I'll have to delay that gratification and stay at home tomorrow night with a mug of green tea, a box of tissues and a dustbin while watching The Good Wife and straining to hear the characters speak over my blocked ears and constant sniffing. Or I might be better tomorrow. I'm not contagious, by the way. How are you, Heather?"
Heather smiled. "You're quite a darling. Every day is a good day for me, dear. Now, what can I get you two?"
"I'll have a jasmine tea," said Celia. "I'm-"
"I'll have a cappuccino, please."
"Oh! By the way, I have some cookies for you both," I said.
"Beg your pardon?" said Heather, suddenly less cheerful.
"I baked some cookies today. Would you like some?"
I extracted a haphazardly wrapped pile of about eight cookies from my handbag.
"You'll have to put those away. I don't allow outside food here," said Heather through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I just thought you might like-"
"Well, quite, but we have perfectly good chocolate chip cookies here."
She walked away.
I looked at Celia. "Was I wrong to-"
"Thoughtless. Let's talk about something else."(less)
Right from the start
I believed you
every word you spoke out loud
along with what was left unsaid
if I was wrong to trust you
it's all on me
(more) because I should have known better
from all that came before
my track record's nipping at my heels
reminding me how often I fall
and how hard
sometimes my mind races in the dark
your voice echoes through me
and I hear what you say
not knowing what it means
confusion reigns and I bow down in silence
wondering when I'll ever learn
"Yeah, but I am not you." Cindy told her mother as she lay on her bedroom floor, painting on a small canvas. Another odd alien looking creature. Her art work was interesting. She made art out of tiny words overlaying big eyes, thin limbs, mouth gaping, angry creatures.
Her mother stood, confused and frightened by her daughter. "That is the last thing I want you to be." She knelt down. "But you are wrong on this one, Baby." She pleaded with her daughter. She reasoned with her, choking back tears. "I have raised you to have morals, values...certain standards. If you continue this course..."
Her daughter looked up. Her eyes as alien to her mother as the creatures her daughter painted. Cindy gave a snide smile. "I know. He is picking me up first thing in the morning."
Her mother put a hand to her mouth to stop the audible shock. "Do you realize that you are choosing a path down the wrong road?"
Cindy started painting again and whispered, "I need a change. This 'road' is boring."
Her mother touched her daughters hair, "Life is not always a party. If you try to make it one, you age faster and regret so much." Her mother thought, I have to stand by my beliefs and toughen up. Show that I mean business. "If you leave here with that boy, you cannot call me unless it is an emergency. I am not going to support you in this. I will not watch you destroy yourself. Already, it is killing me!"
All those years of guiding Cindy not to be me, she thought, she became me anyway. She is making the same mistakes. Her mother cries, was I wrong to not stop her from leaving? What words could I have used?(less)