For a time I had a boyfriend (snorts ‘for a time,’ we dated for two and a half years…). The point of mentioning this is because every night at about the same time we text-ed and/or called and chatted. One evening I was out looking at a new boutique with one of my older sisters and my mother. We had meant to visit it earlier in the day, but life happened and we didn’t get there until just before dark. (It was summer, so that’s pretty late where we live.)
Anyway, he text-ed me…something. I don’t remember what started it, but I text-ed him back, “The shinies, honey, the shinies.”
In the little boutique I was standing near some jewelry that had been handmade. It sparkled in the light and was very shiny and sparkly and beautiful.
When it gets late enough, I kind of…float off. I’m not really awake anymore, but I move around, talk, eat and generally am pretty disoriented. And easily distracted by shiny things.
He tried text-ing me back several times, but the response was pretty much the same.
“Where are you?”
“Near the shinies, honey.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at the shinies.”
He tried calling me and trying again. It pretty much went like the text-ing part of the conversation until he asked where my mom was.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s over there,” points even though boyfriend is obviously not there (yes, I was that tired). “She’s not near the shinies.”
That last bit was said with such sadness, as if I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would even want to be away from the shinies.
He asked to talk to her and I happily floated on over and handed the phone to Mom.
Everyone still jokes about the shinies more than five years later.