When my daughter was small talking to her wasn’t that confusing. As she got older things changed. I don’t mean that we became distant, or argumentative, although she can be at times, or that we began to speak different languages. This is much more than that and doesn’t even have anything with our speaking but our hearing evidently.
Now I admit that my hearing may not be what it once was but that doesn’t explain this either. I’m talking about two people sitting no more than two feet apart carrying on two separate lines of conversation that somehow mesh while it is going on and we only find out later that one or the other or both of us were hearing something different coming out of the mouth of the other and we don’t realize it.
This happens for more often than either of us realize probably and the scary part is we have no way of even knowing how often it does happen so my sweet baby girl could have told me at some time that she is a mass murderer and I heard she was free this weekend for a girls day out. The flip side of that is she may have heard something I said as I ain’t your momma which would explain why she stormed out of my house one day when what I might have said was would you like a tasty beverage. Don’t believe me? I’m going to end this with a little example of what I’m talking about from my side but not yet.
Now I know where part of this is coming from. I don’t know about fathers and sons but I know this probably applies to a lot of mothers and daughters. Gina and I started at some point to be able to finish each other’s sentences. We still can but somewhere along the line I think that finishing each other’s sentences may have morphed into something a bit crazy and now we get a jumble of crazy conversations. I think most of the time we do catch on at some point because we do spend a lot of time laughing at what the other said, or what we thought the other said.
Of course we often deny that we said anything like what is being repeated to us and most of the time it only causes us to laugh all that much harder. The bad thing is on occasion it can also result in one or the other or both of us pissed as hell and we won’t speak for a day or two and for Gina and me going longer than twenty four hours not talking is unusual. The average length of silence between us is between twelve to sixteen hours. Yes we talk often. It may be nothing more than hey how’s things going but we do talk regularly.
So what is all this rambling I’ve been doing about? We had a conversation yesterday that stepped over into the weird and absolutely gruesome. I can only recount what I was hearing and not her. I can say that she claims that what you are about to read wasn’t what was being said. If you think what I thought was going on in some way is odd it isn’t as strange as what she claims she was actually saying. At least to me. Right now I’m not sure if I can be sure of anything anymore so who knows what the actual conversation really was on either part.
Here is the conversation as I thought it went.
What I thought was a look of pure horror passed across her face. “Oh my God. Was that a body back there?”
We had just passed, what I thought was an unusual scene involving some road workers, which struck me as odd.
Me, “Gina I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a body.”
Her, “Are you sure?”
Me, “Sweetie I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a body.”
Me, “Are you OK?”
Her, “Yeah. We passed that thing and I suddenly smelled barbecue and I thought how good that smelled and I remember somewhere that someone said people taste like pig.”
Me with the thought going through my head, what not chicken, “Baby you weren’t smelling a burnt body.”
Her, “I’m sure you’re right but then I remembered there’s a crematorium just down the street so was that what I was smelling?”
Me, “Baby girl we just passed a barbecue place on the other side of the street where those people were.”
The only thing I am reasonably sure that was mentioned in that conversation yesterday was something about a crematorium, barbecue, and maybe something about a burnt or burning body. Oh and she never saw the three people standing in the street.