The other day Emily, my youngest, phoned and asked, as always, “How are you?”
“I’m fine, how are you doing?” I answered.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Haha because I didn’t say great?” I replied.
“Yeah,” she said.
I can’t remember why I was only fine, rather than the usual great, but this makes an important point: A worrywart can be great much of the time.
As some of you may recall, I worry about my excessive enthusiasm but I never have to worry about it with her.
In December we were making latkes for Hanukkah dinner and I sent her an email saying that I had a grater but suggesting that she also bring one.
She replied with a four-word email, “I’ll bring a grater!”
I love that exclamation point! As I wrote back to her, one of the uncountable things I adore about her is her enthusiasm, even though and especially because she is not one of those people who gush all over you all the time, the way I’m at risk of doing.
Now that my book is published, to seem more writerly, I’m worried I need to brood more. What do you think?