How are you today? I said. It was an inane question but I was too sad to look for a better opening.

Why don’t people start a conversation by saying, Who are you today? Nikolai said. How anyone is matters less than who he is, don’t you think?

Who are you, I said. It sounds intrusive, does it not? 

How are you—is it less intrusive? If someone does want to know the answer it’s intrusive too.

Who are you? I went over the question in my head. I suppose people would have a harder time saying who they are, truly, I said. Or there are so many possibilities it’s hard to give one and neglect the other twenty.

When you see a tree, do you say, How are you today? Mediocre, the tree may think, because it’s a windy day. But it’s obliged to reply, I’m good, thank you, and you? No, when you see a tree you think, Here is a tree.

People are more complex than trees, I said.

We think we are, he said. So, who are you today?

I’m your mother.