Dancing in the Dark

Dancing in the Dark

It's nearly the middle of the night...Perhaps in the next hour or so, ma famille will retire for the evening, and I can actually get some writing done.

You'd think all of my writing would be dark, inasmuch as nearly everything I produce is generated sometime between midnight and dawn.

__, at 16 and half a head taller than his mum, has grown into quite a fine young man. He attended a stake dance tonight, all teenaged-boy outsized limbs and crushing good looks. He's so untouched by the world, though, that he doesn't even recognize how tremendously attractive he is to the teenaged girls who pursue him from place to place. I think he hasn't the capacity for vanity or self-absorption.

It's an unanticipated curse of mothering to watch one's children be better human beings -- without even trying -- than their parents are.

Perhaps my sleepless family is less of a problem than is their easily distracted, admiring mudder.


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