The year I rented a room in the Oakland hills — the one I was evacuated from, the day of my cousin’s baby naming, smoke clogging the air — one of the landlady’s daughters moved back for awhile, newly pregnant.
I asked her, trying to make conversation, when I probably really wanted to be alone (but she was in the kitchen, & I was hungry), “What names are you thinking of for the baby?”
“If it’s a boy,” she said, “Guy,” and I laughed, thinking it was a joke.
But her eyes told me it wasn’t.
It’s hard to swallow a laugh once it’s out, but I sure tried.
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!