Hi! It’s me, Phoebe. Mom’s been busy in class all weekend and she said I could blog. I wanted to have dinner first, but apparently, “It’s not time,” so here we go.
Luther and I have new nicknames. We are now called the Pollen Mobility Executives! Pollen is the green stuff that’s everywhere when we go out. Also those little fuzzy brown things, I think.
It has something to do with trees and flowers growing. It’s possible Mom is just making that up to feel better about how good we are at moving it from outside to in.
Dad is in charge of dinner tonight. He’s good at it. Except I’m pretty sure Mom taught him to put a little extra food in Luther’s bowl like she does. (I know because it takes him longer to eat than it does me!)
I’m not sure what Mom’s class friends are talking about. Mom seems to be liking it, though a couple of times she’s cried like she does when she talks about how important our girls are to her and to something called the future of the world. I’m not so sure what future means but it sounds pretty important.
Now, if you’ve been hanging around a while, you know Mom really likes those little things she calls index cards. They don’t smell good but she writes on them anyway.
Today one of those index cards fell out of a book Mom had to get Dad to find on the bookshelf, which usually means she hasn’t opened it for a while. She read it to us:
No one had ever asked what it felt like to be me. Once I told the truth about that, I felt free.
Abilene, from The Help
I’m not too sure who Abilene is but, before I lived here, some people who didn’t understand what I needed chained me to a fence. It was really hot and I didn’t have any food or water.
Mom says that a lot of those people who yell on TV are really arguing about who gets to tell the truth about what it feels like to be them.
It seems like it would be easier for people because they can talk, but maybe that’s not the only problem.
Here’s what I know… Mom seems to like the people who think that it matters what everyone feels a whole lot better than she likes the ones who think only some of the people matter.
I think she’s right. I like feeling like I matter. And it’s about to be dinner time, which is a very good way to matter.
ps…by this time next week, we’re going to have something called a store, right here where I’m blogging. I’m supposed to say that you’re invited! That must mean that you matter, too!