read.
— She is rich in spirit, Mom says. We have too much stuff.
Since Lanlan came Mom has been throwing stuff out, giving stuff away.
— We are choking on possessions, she says one day. Every day I am going to get rid of three things.
And another day she says: — These things have a life of their own. They have more life than I do.
Yesterday she gave a whole bunch of appliances to Goodwill. Like I think a toaster oven, and a pressure cooker she was always afraid was going to blow up, and a cappuccino machine that didn’t foam that great. Today she is giving away a pair of ski boots, and an old watch, and a casserole, and a bunch of travel books. It’s hard to stick to three things, she says, there is so much she wants to get rid of.
— Do you know what we do? she says. We consume to avoid living.
— That is like so true, says Lizzy.
She comes into the kitchen all of a sudden, who even knew she was listening, and instead of eating by herself because we bug her, the way she sometimes does, she gets a normal plate like a normal person because actually she likes Dad’s French toast. Not that she would admit it. He makes the French toast with corn bread so he can say how corny it is, but nobody does think it’s corny, everybody loves it. Even if it does sort of crumble all over.
The morning light is yellow, just like the kitchen Mom painted yellow so it would be warm and kitcheny even in the rain. So that everything now is yellow yellow yellow, even the plates, which are white.
Says Mom: — It helps us avoid questions like, Are we alive? And, Can we call this a life?
Mom says this because she was up half the night. The end of the quarter and you know how Porter is, she says. But Dad says that’s not really the problem.
— Your problem, he says, is that you actually believe responsible investment will change the world.
— Absolutely it will, she says, cutting stuff up for Bailey. — Think of externalities such as the environment, and how much pressure . . .
— At the same time you wonder, Do you really believe it the way you used to?
Mom sips her coffee.
— Or does the spiel just come spieling out? says Dad.
Mom covers her nose with her mug. Then she uncovers it, which makes her nostrils flare just like this very little bit. Her nostrils are sort of oval, not round like Lizzy’s and Daddy’s and Lanlan’s and mine, and usually sort of pink, but not today. Today the bottom of her mug is yellow, and her nails are yellow, and of course her hair, which was already yellow. Everything except her eyes.
— On the other hand, it’s a job, says Dad. At least you’re not laying people off, like my own dear Document Management Systems.
— Is getting laid off the same as getting fired? I say.
— Not exactly, says Dad. But of course you worry.
— You worry because you have a family to support, says Mom.
— You have a family to support. But here’s the thing, says Dad. In one way you definitely, one hundred percent want to hang on to your job.
He turns around with a fresh delivery to dump on the plate in the middle of the table.
— But in another way you wonder if for all that work we’re really that much happier than Lan.
— Of course we’re happier than Lan, says Mom.
— We’re more comfortable than Lan.
Me and Lizzy start putting on syrup.
— Please! says Mom. You can’t seriously envy someone who’s lived through the Cultural Revolution! Do you realize what life is like there?
— I’m not saying I’d change places with her.
Mom cuts up her own French toast.
— And yet, she says finally.
— And yet the last time I used the words ‘endless possibility’ it had to do with the myriad uses of a griddle.
He flips stuff over.
— You guys sound like you’re sorry about your whole entire life, I say.
— A lot of things are written, and can’t be rewritten, says Mom.
— Like what? says Lizzy. Like what would you write over,
— She is rich in spirit, Mom says. We have too much stuff.
Since Lanlan came Mom has been throwing stuff out, giving stuff away.
— We are choking on possessions, she says one day. Every day I am going to get rid of three things.
And another day she says: — These things have a life of their own. They have more life than I do.
Yesterday she gave a whole bunch of appliances to Goodwill. Like I think a toaster oven, and a pressure cooker she was always afraid was going to blow up, and a cappuccino machine that didn’t foam that great. Today she is giving away a pair of ski boots, and an old watch, and a casserole, and a bunch of travel books. It’s hard to stick to three things, she says, there is so much she wants to get rid of.
— Do you know what we do? she says. We consume to avoid living.
— That is like so true, says Lizzy.
She comes into the kitchen all of a sudden, who even knew she was listening, and instead of eating by herself because we bug her, the way she sometimes does, she gets a normal plate like a normal person because actually she likes Dad’s French toast. Not that she would admit it. He makes the French toast with corn bread so he can say how corny it is, but nobody does think it’s corny, everybody loves it. Even if it does sort of crumble all over.
The morning light is yellow, just like the kitchen Mom painted yellow so it would be warm and kitcheny even in the rain. So that everything now is yellow yellow yellow, even the plates, which are white.
Says Mom: — It helps us avoid questions like, Are we alive? And, Can we call this a life?
Mom says this because she was up half the night. The end of the quarter and you know how Porter is, she says. But Dad says that’s not really the problem.
— Your problem, he says, is that you actually believe responsible investment will change the world.
— Absolutely it will, she says, cutting stuff up for Bailey. — Think of externalities such as the environment, and how much pressure . . .
— At the same time you wonder, Do you really believe it the way you used to?
Mom sips her coffee.
— Or does the spiel just come spieling out? says Dad.
Mom covers her nose with her mug. Then she uncovers it, which makes her nostrils flare just like this very little bit. Her nostrils are sort of oval, not round like Lizzy’s and Daddy’s and Lanlan’s and mine, and usually sort of pink, but not today. Today the bottom of her mug is yellow, and her nails are yellow, and of course her hair, which was already yellow. Everything except her eyes.
— On the other hand, it’s a job, says Dad. At least you’re not laying people off, like my own dear Document Management Systems.
— Is getting laid off the same as getting fired? I say.
— Not exactly, says Dad. But of course you worry.
— You worry because you have a family to support, says Mom.
— You have a family to support. But here’s the thing, says Dad. In one way you definitely, one hundred percent want to hang on to your job.
He turns around with a fresh delivery to dump on the plate in the middle of the table.
— But in another way you wonder if for all that work we’re really that much happier than Lan.
— Of course we’re happier than Lan, says Mom.
— We’re more comfortable than Lan.
Me and Lizzy start putting on syrup.
— Please! says Mom. You can’t seriously envy someone who’s lived through the Cultural Revolution! Do you realize what life is like there?
— I’m not saying I’d change places with her.
Mom cuts up her own French toast.
— And yet, she says finally.
— And yet the last time I used the words ‘endless possibility’ it had to do with the myriad uses of a griddle.
He flips stuff over.
— You guys sound like you’re sorry about your whole entire life, I say.
— A lot of things are written, and can’t be rewritten, says Mom.
— Like what? says Lizzy. Like what would you write over,
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