The exact, the very day of George Washington’s birthday and I see the date and recall with a flash how my mother baked a cherry pie every year for this day. And she told the story of “ I cannot tell a lie I chopped down the cherry tree with my little hatchet.” I learned to eat pie much better than I learned veracity.
I learned to lie as it kept a sort of tenuous peace in my fractured growing up world and now truth is a state I struggle to attain and maintain. A constant check and cross check. I saw it this weekend when we invited my goddaughter and her parents and itty-bitty sister up to the county with us. What do we tell kids is the truth and what must we fabricate to keep our lives and theirs a tad less complicated. Yin and yang come and go the balance of truth and half-truth and bald-faced lies.