High Places



What is it with my mother and high places? She insisted on meeting me at places with more than 20 storeys whenever she had something momentous to tell me. I could usually judge how extraordinary her news was by the height of the building. I’m sure there was a PhD thesis in there somewhere, but I wasn’t going to write it.

The last time mom had come to visit me in New York she’d taken me up the Empire State Building to tell me she was getting married again. The thought of what this news could be was making me very nervous.

As I walked out on to the observation deck I spied her leaning on the railing looking out over Central Park. I went and stood beside her, leaning against her gently.

“Hi Mom,” I whispered.

“Livvie” She smiled as she hugged me.

“So, Mom, what’s the news?”

“Oh Liv! I’m having a baby! I’m so happy.” She hugged me even tighter.

“Wow Mom! That’s …”

I was stunned. At forty-five my mother was having a baby.

I had to stop meeting her on top of tall buildings, because one of these days I’d throw myself off one.



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