My not-so-agile re-entry into the workplace

Z’s hearing is still deteriorating from the car crash. I think he might be ready to call it quits on cello.

I have a hard time knowing what to say because it’s all so sad. I have to stop myself from becoming  Julie Andrews, tossing out desperate suggestions.

In the mornings we walk the dog together. I ask Z about his plans for the day. He ignores me and chases the dog up the Freedom Trail. I throw sticks for fetch while he sits on the bench by the State House to rest his head.

Somehow the dog always knows when Z’s head is rested and nudges him up. On the way home through the Common we wonder, does his head hurt too much to play cello today?

He says, “Can’t I just go to sleep and not wake back up til I’m married with kids? What’s the point of plans when they fail.”

I think, look, if you want to talk about the pointlessness of plans, no one has a better example than having kids.

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