Thursday, September 23, 2010

Dent de Lion

The next door neighbors are teaching their kids violin and piano, 7 year old twin boys who practice La Marseillaise on Saturday afternoon. On Tuesdays I see their mother shuffling them into the car, all of them dressed in white karate gi tied with belts that are so dark one ought not wear them after Labor Day. Or is that shoes? Something about horizontal stripes, the mixing of navy with black. My father once told me not to compare my insides to somebody else's outsides, but due to poorly defined setbacks our living room window looks directly into their dining room. And what smells like garlic broccoli stir fry wafts in as we eat Scooby Doo shaped macaroni and cheese next to a small glass jar of plucked dandelions with their blithe, trusting shrouds parachuting seeds, because they are her favorite flower. And now mine.

6 comments:

anita @ a dreamer's den said...

your dad is a wise man.
i try every day to remind myself of that phrase; knowing that the longest distance is from the head to the heart.

sherri said...

i just teared up. i LOVE your writing. and your dad.

Sparkie said...

Oh my, you taught me something new today, "dent de lion". I never knew that and I'm somewhat of an old dog.. Keep cool, I'm going to Stinson.

bronwyn said...

That was really beautiful. Even though in my head I know it is silly to compare myself to others, you just spoke to every insecurity I have.

Michelle M in KY said...

OH SUSANNAH...
For goodness sake's...that made me cry.

Erin said...

Hey, at least you have fresh flowers at the table!

And, your dad has some of the best one-liner pieces of advice I've ever heard. He's a wise man, that Edgar is.