Parents

My father is no conversationalist. For all practical purposes he lives in the garage where he tinkers with nuts and bolts, the lawnmower and the car. My mother talks a lot. She lives on the telephone, and, when not at her housework, buries her nose in travel magazines that tout places exotic and far. It’s crossed my mind many times, and I suppose I have good reasons, but I am fairly certain the last time they looked at each other (if it wasn’t dark) was when I was conceived.