“Pull the condo off the market,”
she said, “ Don’t leave. We’re
like family here.” Really? Family?
Perhaps “like” is the operative
word there. We are like family;
we’re not family, blood family.
Maybe better than blood; we
don’t get in each other’s hair as
much. We’re not irked as much.
We don’t see so much unfavorable
about ourselves in others as we do
with family — the weak chin, the
gaping mouth, the dull stare, the
propensity to make fun of others
and the inability to take a joke
about one’s self. “Lord, I’m not
like that, am I,” he asks him-
self with a shutter. Well, maybe
all those things are there, but
we don’t get involved enough to
see them. We are like family,
but thankfully not so much,
“thankfully” being the operative