Awakening Passion

I picked up my fork and small talk commenced again, mostly centering on how good josh had looked last week when my father took care of some business with him. My parents still fawned all over my ex-husband, and i sat as still as a rock, taking the familiar family scene in, not saying a word (no one expected her to, anyway).

Yet, at the same time, I wasn’t really seeing my parents. Wasn’t really listening to what they were saying. Because suddenly, I couldn’t suffer through one more Sunday brunch. Not without rocking the boat at least once in my life.

Feeling reckless, I said, “The funniest thing happened to me at the reunion last night,” i began, waiting for my parents to ask me to tell them more. But it was as if I hadn’t even spoken. My mother got up to refill my father’s wineglass and he started another boring tale about golfing with some old cronies from work.

How long had i been living like this? With no one paying the least bit of attention to what i had to say? Dozens of Sunday