My dad actually said to me the other day,
“We did have a dog for a while, a collie, and then I remember coming home one day, and the dog was just gone. You know, Pop sent him to live up on this farm.”
This with full serious dad-face. No trace of suspicion or cynicism or LOLZ or anything.
And obviously I couldn’t just let it sit there. I’ve been annoyed with myself for a minute now because I went and took an enormous shit all over a 69 year-old man’s childhood memory. Immediately. Like, not even thinking until the words started to spew forth. Pure reflex. Nothing gained. No great truth demystified.
I know it’s not some huge deal. We all had a laugh. My dad’s a big boy. No one need put Edward Norton in a crisis suite over it.
But, man, sometimes we suck at being people just a little bit more than usual, you know?
