The Love That Split the World
“I have this sense that she’s assuming the pose, role-playing the whole thing like we had to do in A.P. Psychology.
It’s like we’re playing doctor until we get to the bits that might actually be useful, when she sits forward abruptly, drums her lips, then jots something down haphazardly in her notebook.
“Are you sure there’s no faster way to do this?” I ask. “Maybe if you told me what you’re writing down.”
“There’s no faster way,” she says, scribbling furiously. “I’m following my gut.... Some things may seem mundane to you, but they might hold the key. Other things may seem really big and have nothing to do with it. I just want you to keep talking.”
And I do. For ninety-five straight minutes, and I don’t leave a single second empty. And I feel productive, like I’m getting something done and need to keep plowing ahead.
I tell her about my tantrums and how dance seemed to get them out of me, and how Mom thought that meant maybe I’d had ADHD.MoreLess
It’s like we’re playing doctor until we get to the bits that might actually be useful, when she sits forward abruptly, drums her lips, then jots something down haphazardly in her notebook.
“Are you sure there’s no faster way to do this?” I ask. “Maybe if you told me what you’re writing down.”
“There’s no faster way,” she says, scribbling furiously. “I’m following my gut.... Some things may seem mundane to you, but they might hold the key. Other things may seem really big and have nothing to do with it. I just want you to keep talking.”
And I do. For ninety-five straight minutes, and I don’t leave a single second empty. And I feel productive, like I’m getting something done and need to keep plowing ahead.
I tell her about my tantrums and how dance seemed to get them out of me, and how Mom thought that meant maybe I’d had ADHD.MoreLess
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