Read my mind
Can you read my mind? Of course you can. You were always able to.
This is a thing that scares and confuses me to no end. Like when I asked:
"Would you be a dear and throw out the garbage...?", and you heard "You're a lazy bum, get up off your butt and do something". Amazing! The fact that you could so easily understand the real meaning of that sentence. And I didn't even have to translate. Eerie, it is, the way you do that. Can you read my mind?
When I get upset, or am feeling a little emotional. Whatever the reason may be, maybe I'm just tomming (time of the month), or maybe I just read something a little sad. But when you see me in that condition, it's funny how you straightaway get down to the truth of the matter; this was brought about by some action or failing of yours. Is that not true genius? How can you read my mind?
That time when I stepped on the broken piece of glass that had laid hidden under the sofa for so long. You remember? The shard that came from that wineglass that fell from the sidetable which you accidentaly bumped into so many weeks ago? And while the doctor was stitching up the cut, you stood in wretched self hatred, wringing your hands and murmuring: "Why didn't I clean up that mess?". I could tell by the look in your eyes that you just knew how much I held you to blame. Astonishing, the way that you can read my mind!
I was upset by a remark that my father made, in a conversation over the phone one day. Oh how I ranted and raved, and how hurt I felt over his callous disregard of my feelings. I cried, I recall, with vehemence. And you stood there, tears welling in your eyes too. Apologizing profusely for having answered the call, or telling him that I was in. Incredible, how you knew, straightaway, that the blame for my hurt lay at your doorstep. I can't get over how you can read my mind.
The waitress who spilled the wine at that restaurant that I love so much. You know the one, we're there at least every other week. Red wine it was I seem to recall. And me, wearing white. I could not help but be upset and rave a little at the unfortunate girl. And you jumping in apologizing to her for my outbursts. Apologizing to me for having suggested we have dinner there. Of course it was your fault, of course I blamed you. You knew this, of course, as you can read my mind.
The kids that time, when they decided to cook us breakfast. The
kitchen...what a mess! I heard the tremulous knock on the door, and it being Sunday morning, I could not find the energy to respond. And with eyes still closed I heard your tip-toe and whispered conversation. I heard you telling them how "Mommy's tired, and should not be disturbed". You must be clairvoyant, the way you can see and know all, it's either that or you can read my mind.
The dog made a mess of my ottoman, tearing it to shreds. It was the last thing my mother gave me. And when I saw the wreckage, I could only sit on my knees and weep for the loss. I was very upset with the dog, I'm sure it's needless to say. And you, trying to comfort with the words; "I should never have gotten that dog!" Uncanny it is how you can read my mind.
When I got the call, you know the one, that rocked my world to the very core. When all I could do was sit in a chair in stunned silence. I must have sat there for more than thirty minutes before you noticed me there. And I saw the consternation on your face, when you could not get a response to your worried queries. I could only sit there, the pain a knot in my gut. And the explanation of the event that had brought about this state I was in hesitated at the precipice of my tongue. Why should I have to say the words aloud...Can't you read my mind?.
