(Forty-five, Anteater, Karma)
I walked into the hospital room they put my son in. I was tired, kind of in shock. It was a semi-private room, holding a bathroom and two beds, separated by floor to ceiling curtains that could be drawn back. My son Donald was in the bed by the door. His appendix had burst. None of us had recognized the symptoms and by the time we realized there was something seriously wrong my husband Bill had to call an ambulance. Bill would come in the car, as soon as he got my sister to sit with our six-year old daughter. Read the rest of this entry
As published in “The Valdosta Magazine,” Winter 2010.
The Christmas Box by Monique Nagel
Early on Christmas morning my family gathered around the tree my stepfather had cut down, decorated with ornaments that we kids had used our entire lives. Our home was decorated with popcorn garlands, lights, construction paper chains, and cards everywhere. The entire Holiday Season was spent with Jingle Bells frolicking on the radio and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer flying across the television. We played UNO at the kitchen table and laughed until we cried. My mother and stepfather were the glue that held this happy whirlwind together. Read the rest of this entry
(Napkin, Tonsils, Watermelon)
It was the day before Thanksgiving and the turkey rolled out of the oven. Juice splashed everywhere but Mary caught the frisky bird and got it back into the pan.
“Turkey not done yet Mama?” Daddy called from his recliner.
“Very funny!” She hollered back, and then a few minutes later, “Okay, wash up for dinner and then everyone into the kitchen to say grace!” Mary walked through the living room, shaking Daddy’s big toe and went through the bedrooms in the back. “Kathy, you and your fella come on out here and eat.” As 16-yr old Kathy followed her boyfriend out of the bedroom Mary whispered in her ear. “He’s a cutie!”
Kathy blushed and walked away, hand over her eyes. “Mo-om!” Read the rest of this entry
Birds, Waffles, Shenanigans
She sits at the kitchen table, almost nine o’clock at night, listening to her 16 yr. old daughter and her boyfriend giggle while they wrestle in the other room. The bedroom door is open, they are just playing, and she could hear them talking and laughing all the while. No shenanigans are being attempted tonight. Just two kids having fun with each other. The television is off, no music either. Just two kids. It makes her remember what it was like, that young love. Read the rest of this entry
If Only I…
Carla Chapel walked on dirty leaves, twigs and branches; all signs of the actual trail had been lost some time ago. She couldn’t even see the sun, with the overcast sky and wind whipping the treetops. An evening storm had definitely rolled in. A tear slid down her cheek; another soon joined it. Now what am I supposed to do? She wondered. If it hadn’t been for that old woman she wouldn’t even be out there. No phone, no flashlight, no matches. How did I ever end up here? Read the rest of this entry
“Remember to Live.” ~ Goethe ~
Book, Tall, Attic
Clara Bell came up the steps slowly. She carried a box of clothes which she sat down on an old chair. Right now it was dusty and hot up here, and she could hear the children playing on the swing set just below. Clara walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes, noticing as she did so that it needed cleaning badly. Looking around Clara saw a cloth on the arm of a chair and used it to wipe the windowpane. Huh, that’s better. The sun shone in for the first time in years and she could see most of the attic. Read the rest of this entry
Copious, Superfluous, Latrine.
Music blared from unseen loudspeakers as Truva Allen walked past the Ferris wheel. Row after row of lights lit the Midway. The lights were strung high on poles and attracted all manner of insects. They beat themselves silly against the hot bulbs then fell to the ground to be crushed by girlfriends who were “like, totally” dragging their high school boyfriends to test their strength and win them a teddy bear.
Truva was not one of the airheads. She was supposed to meet Matt here at eight but had come at six to look at some of the exhibits. Read the rest of this entry
Jupiter, Heartburn, Tomorrow
Seventeen year old Emily Robinson looked through the telescope at the far away planet Jupiter.
“I wish we could live there,” she said, bored. “It’s so much prettier than Mars!” She kicked the pink dust under her feet. Here, the sky was red, the ground was red. The dust that accumulated on their instruments was um, oh yea… red. Read the rest of this entry