Those Rough Days

Today, I was watching my parents work on a 750 piece puzzle and I thought to myself what if I was to write a book. I mean not a huge 750 page book but a small book, I accidentally thought out loud and my mom exclaimed “That’s a great idea, Emily!” At that moment I really wished that I hadn’t thought about it at all, I replied “Thanks mom but what would I possibly write about?” It got silent then my sister Julia started talking about how she was writing a book. Then I turned to my dad I said “Dad, what do you think I should write about?” He turned from the frustrating puzzle and said “What are we talking about?” I ignored that and repeated my question. He said that I should write about what ever I want. I glanced at him, my facial expression was vague. He sees me and says “Writers don’t ask parents to help them; E.B. White didn’t ask her mom to help her write Charlotte’s Web.” I looked at my mom she
shrugged and continued her puzzle. My sister had just baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies with nutella; we’re Italian so we’ve got to have it on everything. She offered one to my dad and my mom had taken a little piece, he stuffed it in his mouth and Julia said “Hey, half of that is for Emily!” he ignored that and Julia gave me one. I munched on the cookie and it made a big CRUNCH my dog ran in had kept bashing into the wall because she was wearing a cone. She wasn’t wearing it for fun she was wearing it for a reason because she has a scab on her nose which she keeps picking. The night before when we put it on her she was catatonic, she stared at the wall for 10 hours. Of course I’m execrating.