Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Britt-Marie Was Here by Frederik Backman

So no surprise that my son is at it again. First I find a note from him in my mailbox saying that he has to rush to get to work (I shit you not) but really wanted to share this book with me. Never mind that my understanding of being a professor is pretty much giving 2 lectures a week and then sitting around your office in a t-shirt trying to impress young people with your witty comments and civil war relics. I guess he had time to walk up my steps but not through the treacherous threshold of my doorway. Or perhaps my doorbell is broken - I should check that. And then there is this book he gave me. It is beautiful. Funny, poignant, sad - almost heartbreaking really - but still uplifting. But with him there is always the message behind the book. I know he is not just sharing a work of art with me, but rather giving a passive aggressive judgment of my life. Look Dad, this person suffered bad shit and still made something beautiful out of her life. As if my response to my wife passing away is that I am supposed to move to Sweden and start a youth soccer team. Thanks, but no.

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