Being a confirmed devotee of the God of Small Things can
have its down side as well as its up. On the one hand you can be thrilled by
the sight of a moth feeding on a flower; on the other you can feel dreadfully
hurt by the smallest perceived slight, like being summarily dismissed by the
one person you really want to talk to. Brushed away like a speck of dirt on a new
coat was how it seemed. It’s odd that I have often sailed through some big
issues relatively unconcerned, but being brushed off by somebody with whom I
have never had a true conversation, and who I only bump into about three times
a year, bit deep. Oh, well; life moves on.
But today I received the long-awaited news: the Lady B has
successfully produced the new life which she has been carrying and mother and
baby are said to be doing well, if in need of some sleep. And it was a girl, as I
always thought it would be.
‘You’re the only one who thought so,’ said the dear lady's dear mama. ‘Everybody
else was sure it would be a boy.’
Being right about something doesn’t inflate my ego as it
used to. I suppose that’s about life moving on, too.
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