I've been meaning to write this post for a while.

I mean, every time it happened, I'd wince and make a note to myself.

I meant to mention it. I meant to say something about it. Not just write about it.

But I suppose I mean a whole lot more than I do. What else is (k)new.

My father uses this phrase, actually this word--"Mom"--"When will Mom be home?"--"Where is Mom's tape measure?"--"Stop by and see Mom."

Whatever it may be.

My mother uses this phrase: "Your Dad." She'll say, "Go to your dad's place"--"What is your Dad doing?"--"Ask your Dad."

Her usage of that phrase was near immediate, not a process, not a specific reference to the singular father of her children (as if there are others), nono, merely a separation from herself, a separation from her self.

My father's usage is a recognition of history. A recognition of the inability to separate and alienate what is so interconnected with one's self and one's life. A salute to the past, so to speak, and perhaps an unconscious inability to let go.

How I wish he'd stop saying it.

No comments: