I feel very calm. Quite relaxed as the world goes on and I do not participate. I have been busily domestic, taking care of myself for the winter, squirreling. I have been avoiding things that I know I must do. I wonder how many years I can string out in avoidance. Surely there’s a limit somewhere. I am thoughtful after speaking with my parents. They’re both worried and being oddly self-like and a whole new world of neurotic. They’re both afraid that my father has cancer and I am stoically convinced that he has not. Strange, optimism is not usually my thing. It’s strange to see how their anxiety manifests. My mother, all displacement, worried about photos and my soon-to-be short and blissful work-free week. My father telling me that he loves me. Oh, he doesn’t normally say that. We do not go in for that usually. Perhaps I ought to send a card and maybe a chocolate frog or two.
They both want me to tell them that it’ll be all right. I thought we’d gotten out of the weird role reversal of my youth but no, they are in crisis and want my reassurance. I am trying to be up-beat. It’ll be nothing and even if it’s not, well, even the doctor said that this is the best type of the worst thing to have. He’ll be fine, really, fine. The waiting, though, what’s what’ll get them. And they’ll be so afraid, the poor, poor darlings. Really, they already are. I cannot imagine, no, I can but I refuse to. It will be all right, their silliness has infected me temporarily but we all be fine.