The Girl's Guide To Hunting

I was a teenager, after all, an expert in the art of mortification.

I experienced this anew listening to them talk tableware. They loved the same plates for the same reasons with the same enthusiasm, and I thought,Henry is going out with Mom

Henry changed the topic: he'd been promoted from intern to assistant. I could tell he expected my paren ts to be pleased, and I saw right away that my father, at least, wasn't. It was harder to tell with my mother; she wore the mask in the family

Then I asked my question: "Do they know about you two at work?"

My father shot me a look; and I looked back at him,Why is everything I want to know wrong ?

Julia chose her words carefully and used ones I'd never heard spoken—she sounded to me like she was trying out for a job as a dictionary

Finally, Henry did get up. He went outside as though on a mission. He might be going to check my crab traps or to see if we'd brought the bikes; he could do whatever he wanted. My father was the same way: a houseful of guests, and my mother's duty was to provide food, drink, fun, and conversation, while my father's was to nap or read

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like(Write it!) like disaster

"One Art," fromThe Complete Poems 1927-1979 , by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.