Quickie: Look, Don't See

What I’m thinking about is private and personal. It’s an “inside my head thought.” You can tell because my mouth is closed and my lips aren’t moving. I’m standing in front of a window, looking at unseen flowers, pondering my private, personal thought. Turning an idea over in my mind, rubbing it comfortingly and maybe a little sadly like a smooth stone.

“What are you looking at? What are you thinking about?” That’s my daughter. My mind-reading daughter. The one who thinks (quite often correctly) she can read even the most fleeting of facial expressions.

“Nothing.” What else can I say?

“I can tell you were thinking about something,” she pushes. She always pushes. Always, always. She is the original dog with a bone.

I turned away from the window, turn away from the smooth stone that I took five seconds from my busy morning to cling on to.

“I was just trying to decide where to plant the flowers you got me for Mother’s Day,” I say, finally seeing the flowers in front of me.

“Really?” she prods. Prod, prod. “You looked like you were thinking about something else.”

At this point I flee into the safety of the bathroom, the only room a mom can lock the door behind her without question. I give in momentarily the lure of the window, taking a few seconds to look without seeing anything before turning away once and for all and start the day.