July 30, 2018 by jeliwobble
Once upon a time, there were three girls in a hot tub.
This should be the start of a good pornographic story. It’s not.
The three girls were sisters; one a vice principal of a school, one an executive assistant to two chief medical officers of a hospital, and one a stay-at-home-mum.
One liked to live in her own head, one liked to live in other people’s heads, and the other was like ‘WTF, get a life!’.
The exploration of the lives were reflections, and refractions, and repetitions of the others.
The desire to be a certain person, the ability to understand how to be that person, and the wherewithal to become that person are within all three; they are all on different journeys, they are all competing in their own marathons, the way points appear at fundamentally different times on their courses.
Three lives lived in different generations, controlled by different experiences, by different expectations, and yet similar enough to warrant comparison and exasperation.
The stories woven between the bubbles in the pool and the bubbles in the glass are simply facets of three diamonds burnished in differently heated parts of the same furnace. Hard surfaces, honed to points that can cut, are just really meant to shine in different lights.