Thursday, August 27, 2015

46. Ya’ seen one, ya’ seen ‘em all
I heard the argument start.  Mick was telling Sam she was ten weeks pregnant and her baby’s heart was fully formed.  Sam was a little sad, he had been high and/or drunk most of the time his girlfriend had carried their son. “I cheated myself,” he said with a sad sigh.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Tara said. “It’s a baby. There’s one born every minute.  I popped out two myself.” Mick wanted to know just what Tara’s problem might be.  I knew. Tara, like so many people, had lost her ability to be amazed. Because so many were born, she couldn’t see the astounding complexity of each baby. Because everybody had one, she couldn’t be impressed by a phone communicating via satellite with her bank’s computer 2000 miles away.  Because she’d seen it so often, she couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the sun setting behind the hills of Pittsburgh.  I had been angry with her earlier, but by then I just felt sorry for her.

I hope today I won’t lose my ability to be amazed by the commonplace.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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