“What’s your bumper sticker phrase?” he asks
And I can’t think of one.
He says, “You know, like what did someone say to you over and over again that you still think about?”
“Oh, oh, I know. My dad. We used to always side with my mom. And he’d always say, ‘One of these days, you’re going to find out which side your bread is buttered on’ ”.
I could never figure out if the butter was on the good side or the bad side, but I often picture the slice of bread, spread with a thick layer of yellow, churned butter, falling through the air.
And when I imagine it, I can’t decide if it is my choice to pick the buttered edge and let it sit on top of the carpet, cream pressed into the lint,
or choose the dry side, and then at least, carefully lift the soft crust by the edges.