The subject is art but it could have been anything.
It is 9 am on a Sunday morning. I'm sick & she is still in pajamas.
We pile into my bed to read.
I have a standing date to meet my gym buddy at the gym at 10.
I thought of not going but realized I would feel worse if I missed her.
An hour in bed reading is perfect before I go.
An hour that rushes by, the whole time spent in one book about art.
She picks what she likes & asks me to show her the ones I like best.
I sneak in the information I think she needs reading the names & styles so they become familiar to her.
"I can't live without this one, mom," she says about a Monet
& a few pages later again this time about a Miro.
I see the clock 9:58- shit! I have to go. I am scrambling to find my gym clothes.
"Mom, can I keep on reading?"
"Of course you can."
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