At Least They're Committed

“Um, Mom, why are you singing at the sliding glass door?” DS has just come up from the basement and he’s staring at me.

“You can see and hear me?” I ask. He puzzles a second and then says, yes. “I’ve been singing all day actually,” I tell him.

“Singing what?” he asks politely.

“Eh, the usual,” says I. “Afterlife, Nightmare, Bat Country, Buried Alive . . . you know, A7X. Sorry, nobody could hear or see me until you.”

“Ah,” is all he says and smiles, heading out the door.

You know, when we would geekily sit around on the bar stools talking about what superpower we wanted, invisibility was never on my list. I wanted to move things with my mind. I think invisibility was on Brian’s or maybe one of the Mat(t)s’ list, but not mine. True, it’s amazing the things you hear when nobody sees you there — but it’s also sad and desolate and lonely.

So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to trade in my invisibility powers and maybe get to move things with my mind. Yes, that would be much better for everyone.