Nevertheless, she has watched my father and other men often enough to know where the shells go, and she loads them until the gun will hold no more. Loading the gun is the difficult part. Once the shells are in, any fool can figure out how to fire it. Which she intends to do. One afternoon, I am complaining about the confusion of my age, what is expected of me versus what I want for myself.
Life is a series of pulls back and forth.
You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted. A tension of opposite, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle.