Monthly Archives: March 2018

Little things that brought a bubble of joy to me in the last few days

When you’re sick and you do things kind of half assed just to get by, then you realize that the way you did them before was more than enough.

When you are still sick, and the wife looks in on you and says stay in bed dear, I will walk to work this morning. Yessss.

When you are doing the monthly budget, and you suddenly realize that you have paid a bill for $200 twice.

When you are a coffee snob, and you will only buy a certain brand which happens to be $18 a bag, and then you find out they have it on sale for half price.

You have had your computer for a few years and you think it is getting a little decrepit. You phone your computer guy and ask how much new ones are. He says you know what just bring it in. Maybe just needs a good cleaning and files fixed up a little.

You realize that for some unaccountable reason you have a not so secret admirer who happens to be 40 years younger than you.

You wake up, anxiously thinking you are late for work. Until you realize you are retired.

You visit your sick daughter, make her a pot of chicken soup, and she says ,as you are leaving, text me when you get home.

You realize for some reason you have a secret admirer who happens to be 40 years younger than you. Wait a minute…… I already said that.

via Daily Prompt: Captivating

In a small, crowded, noisy bar, on a winter’s night, he’s surrounded by family and friends. There’s a dislike for the setting: Having to shout to be heard at your own table, the inevitable loud or belligerent drunks, the tiny bathroom always occupied. He stays anyway, because the band is partly family too.
Gradually, unknowingly, he starts to tune out of the forced conversations, and even the band’s attempts to be heard. They are good players, he knows, and he likes the music. He identifies with them, and sees them trying to balance the desire to be heard, and yet be savvy enough not to overpower. They have spent many hours on practice for this night.
The occasional tug from his wife brings him back to the table chatter, and, apologetically, he rejoins the shouting. After a time, he slips back into reverie, and notices that no one is up dancing, save for a solitary figure in a dimly lit corner by the window. It is a girl, probably just of drinking age. Not beautiful or showy, dressed in a sweater and jeans. She is holding her glass of beer, has her eyes closed, and is smiling. It’s a slow quiet number that’s playing, and she sways in one spot, her face upraised to the light. Seemingly, she is ignored by everyone but himself. He is drawn to the simplicity and soulfulness of this dancer, and wonders if she came here by herself, or, if not, why there is scant reaction from those around her. She stays for song after song, nursing that single glass of beer. Just captivating.
Once again, he’s brought out of trance by his tablemates. Gets a couple of annoyed glances and some queries as to why he is watching “that drunk girl”. He does not think of her that way, and realizes with a start that he has been absent from the table talk for nigh onto half an hour. In a while, he begs off for the evening, and he and his wife make their way home.
In their hour long trip, he thinks of nothing, other than what he has seen tonight. Even months later, the image still visits him.
Captivated.

Once I helped a buddy.  He had a little farm.  A makeshift pigpen with metal fencing.
I was mucking it out one day, and I saw that one of the bigger hogs had an “L” shaped  laceration on its side.  No blood.  Just a six inch flap of skin hanging down.  Must have caught himself on one of the pieces of corrugated tin.  My buddy looked and said “he doesn’t feel it”.  I doubted that.  Then he said, to the hog, “that’s it, you’re going for sausage.”

I have a habit, a nervous habit I guess.  Something akin to biting the fingernails.
You know when your lips get dry, and a little cracked maybe, and perhaps you might grab onto one of those little pieces of dead skin, with your teeth, and maybe pull a little?
Maybe?  Well, I pulled a little too hard one time, and a pretty good chunk of flesh came out with it.  I tasted the salty blood running down my chin.  Wife said what happened.
Just never mind.
That hurt.  But, you know, I have done it again.  And again.

I’ve been to the dentist enough times to learn.  They stick those needles in, and say
“now, remember not to chew or eat anything hot until the freezing comes out”.  I am waiting for them to give me a lollipop too.  Of course, I forget, or choose to disregard, such good advice.  Well, I chewed a little bit one time.  I was hungry, and I suppose I chewed some more too.  Peeled some skin off the cheek meat.  Wife said what happened.  Oh oh.  That clumsy tongue must have gotten in the way, too.  The salty blood again.
Never mind.

I got a sickness one time.  A cancer of the spirit.  Wounds and flaps of skin hanging from my inside.  They rescued me with talk and strong drugs.  Then, you know, I couldn’t feel anything, really.  It’s better than bleeding out, right?  But, I digress.  They did save me, yes they did.  Now, the freezing’s coming out.  Some of those cut out flaps are still hanging, but they’re starting to scab over.  I do think.

No more band aids for now.

and so I write this
not out of vanity, I hope
for really, I am but an old man
by government standards

but to say
how you affect me
and to wonder what you see
when you look at me
and why you do what you do

I have been in this town
since before your birth
and have lived many years before that

you started work as a young girl of sixteen
in that store where I shop
and now you are twenty two
with a child of your own
and an absent father, you’re high and dry

funny, I thought you didn’t like me
because you never spoke when I passed by
all of those six years
rather, you turned away

but, at Christmas, I had some business to do there
and you helped me
I said Merry Christmas and turned to go
but you overtook me, looked up smiling
and hugged me tightly

I knew not what to do, and blushingly walked away
weeks into the new year, I felt I should say something
so, haltingly, I said you had made my day
on Christmas Eve, with that unexpected hug,
so you gave me another, then ran to the back room

do I mean something to you?
did our souls meet, perhaps, in another life?
I do not know what to say to you
except to make small talk
how’s the baby?
how’s your toothache?
are you working hard, or hardly working?

but you still smile, and give a squeeze once in a while
I wonder about your life, and what it’s like
single, on your own, small child, crummy job
but I would never ask inappropriate questions
in an inappropriate place

and so, we just pass each other
and if you fancy, we chat
and sometimes you look about
before you bestow that secret hug
to make this old guy’s day

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and so, today, I walk by an aisle
you are there, in your old man’s sweater
stocking shelves, or some such
and, of course, you jump up, smile,
give more hugs
so I say, hey you will get yourself in trouble
fraternizing with the customers, eh?
I ask you about your little girl
and you look a bit sad
so I say what’s the matter
and you say she is two years old now
and she is growing too fast
I say what do you mean
and you say I would like her to stay small
’cause all I want to do is cuddle her.