In workshop earlier this semester, my wise peers gave me some typically wise advice:
“You’re idealizing relationships too much,” they said.
“The author is smarter than the narrator. You know that romantic love won’t solve everything.”
I do know this. Sort of. But it’s easier to play with point of view and structure and tone than to be more reflective. I promptly ignored them in my revision.
During my trip home to New York today, though, I was reminded of what they said.
Specifically, an 83-year old Delta passenger named Phyllis, seated beside me between Minneapolis and JFK, reminded me.
Phyllis was (actually, probably she still is) on her way to Cairo. She has three grown children, but no interest in spending the holiday with them. She sees them other times of the year. It will not be her first visit to Cairo, either: she told me she’s been to sixty countries.
“Really I’m just going to Egypt so I can get to Syria,” she explained.
“Why do you want to go to Syria?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been yet.”
Phyllis, who lives in Lansing, Michigan–where she raised those three kids, alone (“I had a husband, but I got rid of him”)–spontaneously announced to me, abruptly looking up frrom her Steven Martini thriller, that she loves being single.