not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

a conversation; and we eat cake






my son and i are doing what?  something over the kitchen table.  oh, i am cutting and lifting two pieces of McCain's cheap-ass marble cake out onto two mismatched saucers.  what are we talking about?  i can't remember.  but he says something about thirty years from now and i say, oh, wait, how old will i be?

oh, i remember now.  we have been to the library and we have taken out books to read.  he has appraised the return date and as i cut the cake he imagines aloud, what if they were stamped to be returned thirty years from today? 

again i try to tabulate, how old will i be? (what year is it?)  will i even be alive in thirty years?

he looks at me and says, mom, you'll be 72.  you're, like, healthy.  you should be alive, barring a car accident or a heart attack or, as he puts it, something stupid. 

what about murder, i ask?

oh, that would suck, he responds.  i mean, it would really suck, he adds for emphasis.  if i'm murdered, i want to be, like, shot dead, not cut up, or remember what happened to the guy in Fargo, in the wood chipper?  nothing like that.

ya, me too, i say, or, me either.

we eat our cake.

16 comments:

  1. Yeahhh! What's thirty years to a ten-year old? You calculated it?
    Love these pictures, love the energy in the room.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. rosaria, i tried to calculate it but i kept forgetting which year we were in. true story.

      the photographs were from another time, equally as rich. i could die each time i consider such purity in simplicity.

      xo
      erin

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  2. lol. yup. would totally suck. sigh, the convos with our kiddos....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. heh. despite numbers sometimes i'm not sure which one of us is younger:)

      xo
      erin

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  3. I did not understand the discussion that you had with your son, soory, even if I master a little English or American I no matrise not no subtlety of your language,he wants to end your life when would be you more old?? How in the movie of son cohen? Big lol!

    As for photos they are always very beautiful.
    Good weekend

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. this makes me smile)))) it is difficult to understand even if you know english. we shared cake and quite easily our conversation turned to death. considering the many possibilities of death, we agreed to not choose to be fed into a wood chipper.

      my son is ten. while our conversation might seem innocent and funny, with me it is always a keening of awareness of mortality.

      but with fun. we have this, as well:)

      xo
      erin

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  4. Blessings.....
    that was kind of sweet, touching and mobid all at the same time.

    love the mood of the 2nd photograph

    Stay blessed & keep talking.
    Rhapsody
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    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. rhapsody,

      sweet, touching and morbid. this makes me smile too)))

      xo
      erin

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  5. how i missed your photos... your words, they frighten me sometimes, or unsettle - but the images are always both deeply emotional and yet beyond all emotions, theirs is a silence which reveals the sacred within the most profane, the most banal of gestures, of moments - and they do this quietly, tenderly...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. roxana, i should apologize. i'm not capable of being otherwise.

      and i laugh a little. how you intuit is unsettling at times. to imagine you alive, this rare gift of yours carried inside you like a briefcase or a bouquet - it is almost unimaginable.

      xo
      erin

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  6. Replies
    1. kenkiz, thank you and welcome)))

      xo
      erin

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  7. That is life. One never knows when they are middle aged. Snag some more cake.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ollie, i've been thinking about halfway in many regards lately. it's an illusion, isn't it, as no one ever knows the full measure. yes, more cake then:) all the cake we can manage!

      xo
      erin

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  8. La vie ordinaire est à la base de grands sentiments, comme ceux d'une mère pour son fils.
    Belle série de photos.

    Roger

    ReplyDelete
  9. ordinary life, roger, is a goddamned miracle))

    xo
    erin

    ReplyDelete

"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))