“I think the same place all this really great stuff is coming from is the place where all this SHIT is coming from, too.”  Dad sighs on the other end of the phone.  I can hear the words entering his brain and digging in. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”  He agrees with me.  Of course he does.  He almost knows me better than I know myself.  “I mean, who can LIVE like this?!?”  Dad sighs again, softly, but I can hear the volume of his caring in his sighs.  “You can.  You ARE!  You have been your whole life.  I don’t know where this idea comes from that you can’t.”  I pull the covers up over my head and stare at the beads of lint pilled up inches from my eyeballs.  I sigh.  “I’m tired.  I don’t want to talk about it anymore, k?  Thanks for lettin’ me yack at ya.”  Now I can hear him smiling over there, even though he doesn’t make a sound.  “Courtey-O?”  “Yeah?”  “I love when you yack at me.”


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