Friday, January 22, 2010
I just finished a really incredible book that was recommended to me by my buddy Heather. The book, entitled The Memory Keeper's Daughter, is a very well written first novel by writer Kim Edwards. In the book, an insanely intricate web of lies ties the characters together.
It got me thinking: how many of us really know anyone? Do we really know everything about our significant others? What secrets do we hide from them? How fragile are the lives we have built for ourselves? It's a bit daunting of a thought, but at the end of the day, would you let some grave secret destroy you, or would you move on, realizing that we all have our own secrets, some more sinister than others?
As bizarre as it seems, I sort of like not knowing. Maybe it is the biologist in me, always trying to falsify the evidence, always asking questions. If I don't know, it is something new for me to discover. Even if I find absolutely nothing, the challenge of proving that it was nothing was worth it in the end. It isn't because I am trying to find drama, or something that isn't there- it is the mystery that is intriguing. Perhaps I was a cop in my past life. My husband constantly accuses me of such. Staring to long at someone's expressions, memorizing details and nuances in conversations and surroundings, bizarre games that I have gotten quite good at playing.
It's like the book Harriet the Spy, which was a fave as a kid. You secretly wonder why they chose to wear only purple socks, or why they bought so much cat food. Unintentionally, by observing some of these little intimate moments, you now harbor a secret of your own.
Ah, secrets. How do you feel about them?