08.11.2004 - 11:47 a.m.

I didn't tell my parents when I decided to buy a car, because the car I decided to buy is convertible. Mom has this thing about impractical spending. They both do, really. I told them when I'd already put a hold on the car, only because they happened to call.

I didn't give them the real numbers because I am not interested in making the decision with them. The decision is made. Did that hurt their feelings? Probably. Not that they would tell me. I get to infer it from the Disappointed Mommy Voice on the other end of the phone.

I ended the conversation saying things like "Thanks for checking up on me," as if I appreciated it, as if I had not avoided it, as if I still believed they always know best.

They have trusted me with my own life since I was a teenager, and I have been a dutiful, practical little wind-up doll. At what point will I be trusted to choose what they wouldn't?

Mom and I marvelled for so many years that I never had a difficult teenager stage. Apparently this is because it was waiting until I was twenty-five. I don't even know what I want from them, just that however it is that people are supposed to relate with parents they no longer live with, I am not achieving it.

Blah blah blah, so many bitter entries lately. Did you know the sun is shining on the water today, and the sky is a brilliant blue? Perfect weather for a drive with the top down and the mind at rest.

-stonebridge

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