By Sarah Boyle
Tall and Lanky’s office, Therapist Number 3. “Please,” Mom had said, “be good.” Tall and Lanky has his back to me. He’s shuffling through papers on a wooden desk. “Why do you do it?” Mom had asked.
I hadn’t had an answer. Short and Ugly had seemed too proud, Old and Angry too condescending. I stand quietly, slowly. I take a step toward the brown chair. Because he’s just as human as I am, Mom. No less or more or higher or better. Because I want to see him belly up.
I put the tack in the center of the chair.
Viewing doctors and parents from a child’s eyes. I guess us old folks were never young, and we made the mistake of growing up into responsible adult who never laugh.
I love how I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about til that last line. Love this story!