Sunday

forget the cat. there was never even a bag for it to jump out of.

I'm not sure how I want to remember today, if at all

There was a perfect five minutes during a Scopa game with my Nonna where she was really cleaning house. At one point, I just shot her a glance and asked her if she was done. She laughed and picked up another card and then patted me on the shoulder as she corrected my Italian, repeating the line to herself before laughing some more. She'd end up winning the game. And unlike my grandfather, I'd never belittle her for doing so. I'd never take anything as a game of cards so seriously.

I should have stayed there and played another round to twenty one. She'd ask me how much we were betting and then forget my ridiculous answer just as quickly.

This way there would have been no stress injected into the rest of my night. No need to argue over a hockey game that no one could really watch anyway. No need to beat our heads on the same issues. To explain where there was no explanation. To compete where there is no competition.

We should only ever have to struggle with ourselves and never with others. Tonight I learned, again, why that is.

Yes, I am still incomplete and unfulfilled and maybe it is in my nature to always feel this way. I'm idealistic and unrealistic. I'm a dreamer - always was and always will be. I don't need to be examined, cross-referenced or boiled down. You get it or you don't.

The more I surround myself with people who do, the less I want to be around those that don't.

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