when i was younger, my parents would take me and my brothers with them to parties sometimes. it didn't happen too often and only when the housekeeper was going home for the weekend, i suppose. i recall everybody having something to do except for me. my brothers would hang out with my parents' friends' kids and i would play with the dog, if they had one, or wander into my parents' friends' bedrooms to scope out their adjoining bathrooms. i don't know what it was about bathtubs that enthralled me but i certainly measured a person's financial success by whether they had a bathtub with water jets and fancy soap and shit. but, i digress.
by the end of the evening, i'd find my mother sitting on a couch and go crawl into her lap, ostensibly to sleep. something was very comforting about the smell of wine on her breath and the way her chest would vibrate when she'd laugh as i laid against it. her laugh was a pretty, tinkling noise. something about the fact that i'm 25 now and suppose i'll never lay on my mother's chest again is so sad to me. i guess i could, but she's like 5 inches shorter and weighs about 50 pounds less than i do.
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