My brother called.
We haven’t spoken for 2 years. Or 3. He said one of our aunts died, she wasn’t nice.
Then, he texted me. He wrote his tortoise can’t skate and is a tyrant.
I don’t think I’ve had more enjoyable conversations with him until now that we’ve both stopped trying to judge each other by typical standards that we’re both clearly not.
He told me to order a wreathe for her according to tradition. I refused. I prefer to gift cash, which is also according to tradition.
He said but flowers are for the dead.
I said if you died tommorrow I’ll build you a garden. But no, I said, you don’t even like flowers, I’ll build a dog shelter, to do something you’d have wanted but didn’t.
He said that’s very nice. Then added, please do it for my wife too, she likes gardens.
That was the end of the conversation.
That was very nice.
Because I’ve no idea why I feel compelled to tell you this, I’ll show you a picture of tortoises.
I showed these two tortoises to him too. He said they look like our pair of dogs now in heaven.
I said, because everything is them.
Everything is the thing you love.
Out,
Beakies & Marn
I love this because it spilled out of you. What else is there 🐢