Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Stupid question, stupid answer

SUNDAY, April 18 – My brother calls. The usual listless conversation… the same questions, answered by rote. I don’t feel like explaining exactly ‘how things are’, which is what it’s all about. The conversation invariably ends with the assurance that we’re welcome to come by sometime or that they could come and see us.  Meantime, I simply expect them to do something … anything. Use your imagination, surprise us, do something unexpected, but,  please, no more perfunctory how-are-you-doings.  I’m okay, no more and no less. Goodbye, brother.

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