I am in the middle of a Bush centric PW(only a very little ,)P. I should have time to write, if nothing else.
Last night, we finally got our taxes done. We had tried to do them at home, online, and then 3 visits to 2 different venues which promised free help. We finally gave in and went back to HR Block. We had to pay, but it was so worth it. We will be having a refund, which is always nice, but I got to watch all the people come and go, too. I saw two women filing together, one of them was wearing a Provincetown sweatshirt. They were close enough to me that I could hear some of what they were saying. (I was not trying to eavesdrop, honest.) They were filing married. They seemed very elated for people filing taxes. They lit the place up. Everyone was smiling by the time they left.
Well-- not everyone. There was one person who was miles away. She was a little girl of about 9-ish. She had cornrows terminated in pink clips, she had sparkly shoes-- the kind that light up when you step down hard. And she had a pretty serious pair of glasses. She also had a book with a pink sparkly cover. She was so into that book. I watched her face as she read, and sometimes her mouth fell open, and sometimes her eyebrows contracted, and sometimes she smiled. At one point her dad came up and said he had to leave for a minute. Did she want to come with him? She shook her head without looking up. She sat there for at least an hour and a half, immobile. Husband and I watched her. We both remembered how it felt to be so little, and have a book like that-- that just takes you away. And, I don't know about him, but I remembered how it felt to have a little girl who still wore little shoes, and hair clips. My girl is 15 now!
Oh-- I am continuing with the Spanish. Only a few sinister sentences this week:
1. 'She knows that you remember' (I picture Dick Cheney)
2. 'I mark my territory' (i picture Farley Mowatt)
3 'She will not taste the bread' (Why not? I am less inclined to eat it now.)