By Ellen Holtzman
Then he sat at the kitchen table and, in consultation with my mom, made his choice. Sometimes, as he considered a new destination, he would launch into a story about a past trip.
“So I find a jacket in the closet of the Tokyo hotel,” he once told me.
“It looks good, and I decide to wear it to dinner at the hotel restaurant. Maybe it is some traditional Japanese costume that I don’t know about. As soon as we sit down at the table, a waiter brings his face close to mine and whispers in my ear, ‘Sir, you are wearing pajamas.’”
My dad, mom, and I erupted in laughter.
About the Author
Ellen Holtzman is a writer and a psychologist in Wakefield, Massachusetts. Her previous essays have appeared in Mothers Always Write, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Cognoscenti, CommonHealth, and the anthology, Same Time Next Week.
TO READ THE REST OF THIS STORY, BUY THE OCTOBER 2018 ISSUE HERE