Stories

The weirdest things give me that strange heart-jerk which immediately precedes associating something with Peter.

Conservative Judaism. We lived in Squirrel Hill, which is heavily Jewish. Peter was the shabbos goy for our next door neighbors.

I’m in the process of trying to reclaim something from that. For over a decade, my favorite ‘story’ to tell myself–or daydream, if you want to call it that–came from playing Mage with Peter. For a long time, it was too painful to think about any of that.

Now I’m seeing that I can still just lose myself in the story as long as I’m careful not to think past the characters. It’s okay, while I’m doing it. Sometimes, it stays okay.

I think that anybody with sense would tell me to just make up a new story. Dream something different.

Love someone different? That’s also a suggestion.

Both get the same answer: how?