That sentence s the second-to-last in Catcher. Holden has just finished telling the story of how he ended up in the hospital in California, and now he's regretting it. He has started missing all the people in the book, even the ones that irritated the shit out of him.
As a blogger, I pretty much write about my entire life. There's not too much that's off limits. Sometimes, I get a little nostalgic about some of my topics. I miss people, places, things. Tonight, I went to my daughter's concert. The concert was put on by a traveling group called the Young Americans. They're a bunch of very talented young people who travel to schools and conduct workshops and stage a show. It's like a modern Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movie, the kind where Mickey looks at Judy and says, "Let's put on a show!"
Three years ago, my daughter was in the first Young Americans concert at her school. She was in the fourth grade. Now she's in seventh grade. As I was watching her perform, I started missing that nine-year-old girl from the first concert. She's growing up so fast. She has officially entered the moody teen stage, even though she won't be a teenager until December. She's been practicing her teen sulk for a year, however. I can't hug or kiss her in public any more. I embarrass her on a daily basis. I have to remind her constantly, "You know, I'm considered kind of cool at the college."
I miss the little girl with the lisp who held my hand when we walked together.
Speaking of missing something, I have a little prayer for some missing clothing items.
Dear God of all lost things,
My daughter lost the shirts she needs for her dance team routine tomorrow night. I've driven myself crazy trying to find them. For two hours, all I've been doing is looking for a white tee-shirt and a pink tee-shirt, and I'm done.
I'm tired and cranky. I don't know where else I can look. So, I'm asking You to help my wife locate those shirts tomorrow morning. They're at my parents' house, we think. Please, help my wife find them in the morning without too much bloodshed and screaming.
Oh, by the way, if You could make my daughter just a little bit more responsible, that would be awesome.
Your lost sheep, Saint Marty
|Sometimes, nostalgia is not a good thing|