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Silkworm Ink

January 10, 2014

When it became time to voice his opinion, Ross would shut down. He’d nod or point in affirmation to others but when someone in a meeting would say, “Ross, what do you think?” Ross would clam up. “I’m sorry. I was just daydreaming,” was his favorite reply and the one that cost him his job more than once. 
At home his wife made all the decisions just as his mother had always done before and he knew no other way than to go along. He seemed perfectly content with his life until, Thelma, his wife said one Sunday afternoon while he was watching a ball game; to get ready they were going shopping. 
She stood next to his recliner, lips pursed, toes tapping, slapping her leather gloves into her palm repeatedly and making hurry up sounds when Ross realized he didn’t want to go shopping and told her. Not aloud-but still he told her. Politely, almost apologetically, but he told her and Thelma laughed in his face. It was a pivotal moment for Ross. In his mind he leapt off the recliner and spun Thelma around and shoved her out the door with his foot. He felt good about that and realized for the first time that he had options and while they walked around the mall he nodded to Thelma’s constant babble and knew that one day he’d say it out loud when it really mattered.

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