I’m waiting in line at Starbucks for a tall Pumpkin Spice Latte.
“Aren’t you glad it’s fall?” the barista asks me after I pay, even though it’s 97 degrees outside, and I’m going to have to turn up the air conditioner in my car to enjoy this hot beverage.
When I was in graduate school, I’d save up coins or pilfer extra change from between the cushions of the decades-old graduate lounge couch to buy just one cup of Starbucks maybe once a month. Wealth then was any money that felt wasted.
Most days now, I try to get my son to stop shitting on himself. He’ll pick a corner — any corner — at home or at daycare and take a dump in his drawers because he’s terrified of the toilet. When I tell him, “It’s nothing to be afraid of!” he just blinks at me.
He’ll get it eventually. There will be so many other things scarier than a hole and whooshing water. Hopefully he will find his own thing, impermanent and indulgent, that reminds him that all things pass.