Communication oughtn’t be so difficult. She’s my mother, she could just state quite simply that she didn’t want to go in the first place, weren’t interested in the first place. We can then put aside that awkwardness that affection brings, the consideration for each other’s feelings and thoughts and un-complicate things a little. So there’ll be no I-think-she-thinks-that-I-think sorta thing. It’s tiring, that.

And costly too, at a princely sum of 250 bucks for the cancellation fee of a tour booking for one person.

“Yes, I’ll take care of things, not to worry. Everything’s under control.”

“That was your mum?”

“Yes, why?”

“You were so polite, it sounded like you were talking to your boss or something.”

Maybe that’s all we have left, polite civilities, and wispy bonds that we try to hold on to. At least there is that, that saving grace termed politeness. At least that’ll make things easier, help things along.

I’m not upset that she doesn’t want to go. I’m upset at why she couldn’t tell me earlier. It’s not that difficult to talk to me. Could it be?

Under the same roof, but worlds apart. Welcome to the world of distant emotional attachment but as always, polite.


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