Hanging on & letting go
It’s late afternoon. Zach’s been sleeping on the living room couch with courtroom reality shows playing on TV. I’m in the kitchen making a salad for my dinner. He pauses the show, then cusses as he pushes himself off the couch. The footrest clicks shut and I hear him take a cautious step. Balance check. A couple minutes later, he’s at the refrigerator refilling his water bottle. He’s been really good about staying hydrated. I decide to check in. Zelda : So, how you doin’? Zach : [His back is to me, but I’m certain he rolls his eyes.] How you think? Zelda : I don’t know. That’s why I ask. Zach : I’m hangin’. Zelda : Like the kitten in that poster? "Hang in there baby"? Zach : Yeah. Only I’m hangin' from a ledge by my fingernails. My busted up fingernails. Zelda : Sounds exhausting. Zach : Almost as exhausting as your questions. Zelda : Can I be serious for a minute? Zach : I don’t know, can you? Zelda : Might be time to let go. Zach : Of the ledge? Zelda : Maybe. ...