Saturday, April 10, 2010

Name Sake

Ice Cream for breakfast is the working title of my 30-years-from-now memoirs. I know it's a bold approach to predict that I may have a life worth notating and that people would later like to read about it, but hell, if anything I know my mother will buy all the copies, even more so to her connection to the title.

The story goes something like this:
I'm 4/5 years old and my pseudo grandmother, Miss Julia, takes my older sister, Karla, and I out to breakfast. Miss Julia is married to an obscenely genius man who is not only a lawyer but a doctor as well. My memories of conversing with him were like tests, constant tricky-multiple-choice tests, with a pen. Needless to say, herself and her husband are quite well-off, and Miss Julia never hesitated to spoil us.

She reassured us on this epic breakfast outing that Karla and I could have what-ever we wanted. Our mom was not here, and therefore any, and all rules with her.

So we order.

At the age of 4, or 5, the ice cream for breakfast was a moment of true self-awareness.

I'm hoping that this virtual word venture can follow.

P.S. Between you and my new short story, I WILL write everyday. Let the revolution against my manual labor job, begin...


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