"Two hours! Its two hours minimum study required for the Junior Cert! We discussed this! You agreed, GET OFF THE X BOX!", the boy turns his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the screen, "Uhh, I' ve done a lot of homework already, must have been at least...nearly..... two hours. No! I haven't been home only an hour, well anyway it felt like two hours, well ...just...wait, I have to finish this, I have to...ALLRIGHT I AM GOING. "And," I say as he lurches out (6Ft.1in with no idea how to wear it) "you have about twenty unwashed mugs in your room, you gotta make your lunch for tomorrow, and your laundry is lost somewhere in your quarters, PUT IT IN THE WASHING MACHINE DAMMIT . I am NOT doing it. NOT." (mutter) ( mutter) (mutter). Yeah, the reluctant scholar is back to school. I am even considering a change of school for him. "You should be worried. Some of his friends are actually getting high in front of him" the first daughter announces, severely. "HUH"? She, grilled after dropping that bombshell, rowed back a little,. "Its going on , ...he is not doing it, yet,... but its only a matter of time". I decide to leave him where he is for the moment as he has parted company with a worrying group of dissolute trolls this year, after an intense fling with them last term. They are gone from his landscape (with the horse they rode in on) And he is in an exam year, and the dissolute dope smoking are everywhere. And he has no idea of his own transparency when he seeks to conceal. And any nascent smoking drinking and suchlike activities are written all over his aura. And and and.
Also, its a matter of time. He will grow up. I know. I have one fully grown. I spoke to the eldest on the phone later on. He, intact, solid, and squarely eyeballing the world talked of his wife, who has had the all clear for now, at the living end of a gruelling course of chemotherapy. Its best not to dwell on the savage exactions of this cure on the young and still tender. Like others before her, she averred that she would (could) endure it only because she has children, has people who need her. Having the final session, lying down on the rack one more time, is an act of heroism, a feat of endurance, a brave defiance.
It is autumn, the heartless rain has stopped at at last. You realise how long you have been peering, half blinded, through dense shifting water, see the vibrant green flowering it fostered and hid, all the enduring unsung miracles in the world. She will live, appreciative and honed to a fine steel. My hat goes off to her.
Also, its a matter of time. He will grow up. I know. I have one fully grown. I spoke to the eldest on the phone later on. He, intact, solid, and squarely eyeballing the world talked of his wife, who has had the all clear for now, at the living end of a gruelling course of chemotherapy. Its best not to dwell on the savage exactions of this cure on the young and still tender. Like others before her, she averred that she would (could) endure it only because she has children, has people who need her. Having the final session, lying down on the rack one more time, is an act of heroism, a feat of endurance, a brave defiance.
It is autumn, the heartless rain has stopped at at last. You realise how long you have been peering, half blinded, through dense shifting water, see the vibrant green flowering it fostered and hid, all the enduring unsung miracles in the world. She will live, appreciative and honed to a fine steel. My hat goes off to her.
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