It Don’t Worry Me
While hosting book club at my house last month, I noticed that I have adapted both of my parent’s styles of entertaining. For the first half of the evening, I was like my mother: sitting at the edge of the table, eagerly attending to guests, engaging in conversation, and defending the book. For the latter half of the evening, I took on my father’s traits: body turned to the side, legs crossed, quietly waiting for the party to end.
