tin can telephones
March 13, 2013 § 2 Comments
There is a casual certainty threaded between conversations among mothers, a sisterhood of fallibility and earnestness. These women who were strangers to me until our children were clustered by happenstance into a collective sameness. We met over the tops of toddlers’ heads in crowded classrooms and chaotic end-of-school-day dismissals. Over the years we have come to know one another while perched on miniature classroom chairs and in the perimeters of extracurricular events.
Our conversations are often fragmented, pieces of unending exchanges littered between passing. We pick-up threads of conversations only to leave between thoughts to be continued another day. Like tin can telephones stretched between homes, we pour our doubts and fears, hopes and wisdom into spontaneous sharings. I am tied to each of these women, grateful for the easy comfort of their company.
scribblechic 
This is wonderful, it strange to put a moment or a circumstance like this into words. Some other cultures do it, have these hyper-specialized words, but English generally doesn’t do that. I like the way you’ve personalized this as well as woven in the simulated passing of time.
Thank you for such a lovely compliment. I wish I had command of other languages, I failed miserably in each endeavor to be bilingual.