The Secret Sharer

So my niece turned 12 this week, the two boys I used to babysit when I was a teenager are approaching 30 themselves now, my 20th high school reunion is this year, and my father-in-law is telling me that he has no will and he wants Cha to go to a lawyer in case he dies suddenly.

I'm not one to kvetch much about aging or getting old, but I do indeed wish I could slow the ride down. I feel I need a few months to catch up with the pace, to get back on track. New job, new house, new car, new furniture...the center cannot hold.

I dreamed I was in a group of four people and we were supposed to simultaneously BASE jump from a hot-air balloon at 8,000 feet. Before jumping we were supposed to write down secret thoughts about each other to trade after jumping. I didn't know the other three people in the group, but they were old friends to each other. I had therefore no secrets to share. On one envelope I saw someone had written "I hate Jackie." I didn't know which of my companions was Jackie, nor the handwriting on the envelope.

I've known two Jackies in "real" life: a trailer trash aunt who likely had a fling with my father, betraying my mother and my uncle at once; and a tough Jersey girl in the English program at York College. I hated neither of them.