Richard and Michael. They are father and son, Portuguese, loud yelling door slamming gruff loving caring people. I like the work I do for this small company. I like the hour and a half of work I do there on Friday mornings infinitely more than I like the work I do 40 hours a week. I watch this family arguing with their mouths and hands. Their passion is equally as evident in their anger as it is in their love and devotion to one another. They have no patience, but since neither of them do, they don't realize it's lacking. They howl and bang around without a thought to any notion that anger diminishes love in anyway. It is part and parcel to love. I think I would like this in my life to some degree, although it seems ridiculous to desire anger. I guess I want anger to be safe. I wonder if it can be. It is safe between these two men and so I examine it. Anger was not safe in the household of my childhood. It was out of control and there was no love in it. I think I have erred too far on the side of civility and it has harmed my relationships.
The people in my life are being practiced on. Unfortunately for them I am like a ten year old deciding to take Dad's Lincoln out for a spin with no idea how to steer. I run over mail boxes, into garbage cans, near miss a cat or two and nick a fence over correcting. I have asked one thing of Michael, to be in the office by 7:30 so I can do payroll and get to my full time job on time at 8:00. In the two years I've worked there I can count on one hand the times he actually has been. I'm always late for my next job. I am enabling him to be irresponsible every time I stay past the time I said I would because he won't arrive on time. Today, I practiced a little.
Michael: Sorry I'm late.
Annie: What? It's the same gig every Friday, that's what! It's the same late as it always is. You're killing me Michael! (I put my arm on his shoulder.) Michael, we need counseling!
Michael: Oh God. Now you sound like my girlfriend. You have no idea...just like her.