The Battlefield Where the Girls Say I Love You



That's just the thing: we will never tell you we love you. In fact, we're here only to hold hands across state lines and yell at the world. We're here to try to touch you across this chasm of flown things. Not even that. At most, I will teach you how to make a gin smoothie when there's nothing left in the house. Hannah can teach you several languages and what to do when your car breaks up with you. Thanks for coming out.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Dear Wipes-Snot-on-Shirt and Spills-Milk-on-Laptop,

In two hours, we are not getting on a flight that takes you from New York to Indonesia. Neither am I stuffing you onto a flight from New York to Guam. We are not doing this because we never took the flight yesterday out of Wilmington—that part of your itinerary having been systematically ignored by the deciders.

The upshot is that you’re here with me, or else I’m here with you, for a few more months. I’m miffed and humbled about how you could be overjoyed about this. Don’t you remember that I’m the one that absolutely can’t look at you when you’re chewing because there’s broccoli looking like green mash and, wait, is that a bit of chicken? Gross, you get the point. I’m also the person who says, hush hush hush over and over, because the sounds you’re making, well they’re actually making these tiny cracks appear all over my brain and just one tap now is all it will take.

Despite all of this, you ARE overjoyed and I would like you to know it and remember it so that when you are thirteen and twelve and evil and mean and saying things like, I hate you and you SUCK, I can simply point smugly to the time when you were like, Wooohooo, AWESOME, and I had my hands pushed against my temples like I was trying to hold my brain in.

There were a few hours when I thought I was losing you before Christmas that I was really nice and patient. That illusion was effectively dispelled when you came down to announce that you had painted the carpet upstairs orange and green. Your exact words, Kan, were: “I’m afraid to tell you this, but…” And I bounded upstairs and pointed and screamed and stamped and went and huddled in my bedroom closet. Where, 10 minutes later, you brought me a note: “Der Hannah, we have tried to cleaned it up. We paynted it wite.” And now it’s all fixed, because there is a hard, cement-like swath of grayish paint with splotches of orange and green beneath.

Meanwhile, things are still unhinged with our family. But I figure if you’re old enough to use search words like “hannah + wine” you are old enough to know that our father is a suicidal, bankrupt lawyer who has been shouting “no money for doctors” and often “I’m lonely” and just recently “what will become of me” to me, his daughter, who’s on enough anti-depressants to put an elephant smiling.

Still, we have ice-skating to look forward to. And presents. Aaron, there was a sweet moment yesterday when you said you wanted to buy your teacher a pretty dress for Christmas (“eeeehhhh, actually, Heeeennnneeehh, can you pick a dress for her?”) and Kan, never to be outdone, decided your teacher needed a gold necklace with a medium diamond. Cookies it is.

Thanks for staying. Love and impatient groans,
H

10 comments:

daisy said...

I feel as though you are screwing with my 30-year-old hormones.

hannah said...

you think you know... but you have no idea. it's been the diary of CRAZY. every day has contained its own unique chain of New Decisions. i feel like custard someone ate with a spoon.

Anonymous said...

turn around bright eyes. every now and then i fall apart.

Anonymous said...

Doo wah ditty...ditty dum...ditty doo.

Anonymous said...

Ooohhh, I loves my Hannahs. Good luck!
(I am so glad to hear that I'm not the only person who can't look at people under the age of 18 when they're eating for fear of The Mash.)

Anonymous said...

I can't believe that not one of you have blogged about Britney's 16year old sister, Jamie Lynn Spears, and her pregnancy. You all disappoint me.

Anonymous said...

oh no you didn't...

Cue said...

Oh, wow... amazing that they are staying! Equally amazing that they painted the carpet orange and green.

Anonymous said...

you gotta prove it all night...every night.

wrdcreater said...

It is cool. When I was young we set the rug on fire and tried to put it out with Legos,crayons and stuff; it did not go over well. Paint, ah how I wish we had paint when I was young.