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no invitation

We are at a 3 year old's birthday party in the back room of a cafe. Music is pumping from a tiny speaker. Balloon animals are popping, and waving in the air. A man in a yellow dinosaur costume dances wildly. Parents snap pictures with satisfied smiles on their faces.

A little girl approaches gingerly and stands in the doorway, straying from her parents somewhere inside the restaurant. She cannot be more than three. It must be hard to ignore all of the noise coming from this room packed with celebration. There is a perfect little pony tail at the back of her head. She hesitates, as one foot poises in the air and then rests back down. How to understand that she was not invited. How to understand the laughter, the loose jumping bodies, the presents piled high on the window. None of this connects to her. There is a little plate of food waiting for her back there, in the quiet restaurant. Maybe a warm bowl of soup, thick with noodles. I watch her for some time.

That night, her empty e…

make you feel my love

E does not want to sing any more. I wonder if this is a case of becoming her own worst enemy, a trait she might have inherited from me. We do try a few songs at the kitchen table, but her heart is not in it. She would rather play piano, but she refuses to do anything in time so it is very hard to play together. She is simply on her own course. I decide to step out of the way, and let things unfold. My regret has been noted, and I sit down to sing all by myself this time, while she watches one of her tv shows in the next room, curled on her bed.

Later, she agrees to stand in the cold showing some words on cards. I show her the original Dylan clip. She nods, as if she knew about it already, a piece of old news.








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