Feed on

not about the ending














The depression streak continues.  Your friend here is still under the weather…if beneath under the weather is even possible, that’s where you’ll find me.

It’s actually my eldest daughter’s fault. But wait, before you think my 14-year-old is into some despicable rebellious behavior, I would have to stop you there.  My firstborn is actually still in her best behavior – almost, except for the occasional angst and annoyance and whininess I think she is more or less entitled to at her age – and so far she has not shown manifestations of finding an accomplice to give her parents a headache (like a guy, or something).  Not yet, and I hope I don’t conjure up anything with this (note to the universe: no wishful thinking intended with the observation).

Do you remember your own parents prescribing books for you to read when you were younger? My Mama was not an avid fan of fiction books, and back then what she egged on for me to read was Health and Home, and the Word Power section of The Readers’ Digest.  Of course, given that I was stuck with Readers’ Digest I also managed to read the other sections, and my first taste of fiction was from its condensed book section.  I only had my own dose of fiction in fifth grade, with Sweet Dreams and Sweet Valley High pocketbooks.

Anyway, times have changed. In my sweet little universe, my eldest daughter who reads much faster than I do, now gets to recommend books I should read.  She knows me well, and already has judgment as to what I should read next after what I read last.  I do not exactly act as strict judge on what she should and should not read, except in extreme cases entitled Fifty Shades of Grey, and Bared to You.  Mostly I do trust her judgment –  that broken down into: 40% faith that we are raising her well, and 60% faith because I pray really hard that my kids will always have good judgment.

For months now she’s been asking me to read “The Fault in Our Stars”, a John Green novel about star-crossed lovers: teenagers both afflicted with cancer.  I have hesitated for months because (1) I met John Green through “Looking for Alaska” and he made my heart ache for days; (2) Reads like these do not sit well with me on days like these; (3) I remember her knocking on our bedroom door the night she finished reading this, crying. No, bawling, actually; and (4) With a premise like that, what else should I expect?  But finally I did read it, and had a good, long cry which left my eyes really swollen, my heart really torn apart, and Hubby and kids really in shock.  Even as I was reading only the first few chapters I knew the story was doomed, but I gallantly moved on because…for one, I’m no quitter.  Also, I believe I am just simply a sucker for horrible endings.

But I had a good cry.  And I was able to share a few hours of my life knowing Hazel and Augustus, and those are awfully sweet precious moments in my book.


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