“Cut it short. This might be my last haircut for a while .”
Another contraction, then they stopped. Like the baby knew we needed to get this done.
Was this the best use of time? Could I have done without it? But it wasn’t the haircut I wanted. I wanted to tie up all the loose ends in my life in a neat bow. I wanted to be ready to give my all to this baby.
At REI I bought a blouse. One that wasn’t meant for a pregnant person. And then I was ready. At least, I thought I was.
I’d like to change the message on my answering machine, but I want to do it myself. Why? Imagine if I asked for help. First, who even has an answering machine? And second, I would have to decide who to include in the message.
My kids have moved away, but the answering machine has no idea. Will it feel betrayed when it finds out? Will it wonder how long it’s been living a lie. Even I can’t remember.
Better outsource the problem. Maybe I’ll win a recording on Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. My answering machine won’t question Paula Poundstone.
They were compatible except for different ideas about where to vacation. She wanted a cruise on the Rhine. He preferred the Nile. She wanted to visit a democracy. He said that Egypt is a democracy, but they both knew better. She wanted to leave her raincoat at home. He said, “Then Egypt is the place to go.”
The negotiations lasted for a week. Every evening, they huddled separately with their phones. Their conversations were revealing. They were determined to compromise; also to keep trying for their vacation choice and win the other’s heart. In the end, they flipped a coin.
Cecilia’s middle son drew a picture of a turkey to decorate the door for Thanksgiving. The turkey had a mustache and wore a tux. “Why a tux?” Cecilia asked. Henry shrugged and Cecilia let it go. She was busy making pumpkin pie and cranberry relish for the big dinner.
As the guests arrived the next day, the first question everyone asked was, “Why a tux?” Henry’s Grandma said she liked a turkey who knew how to dress. His Grandpa said, “What a stuffed shirt.”
Cecilia said, “The best thing about this turkey tux is no one’s talking politics.”
Gobble, gobble.
I traveled in time to my sixth birthday party. I spoke with my younger self. “Psst. It’s hard to wait when you’re six.”
“Yeah, it’s not fair. It’s my birthday. I’m last in line for all the games. My aunt said I should get to go first, but Dad won’t listen to anyone.
“Relax. Life is waiting in lines. You’ll learn to notice what’s important. You’ll see; that’s your superpower.”
“I’m mad and I’m sad.”
“You’ll remember the party that way. But learning to wait is valuable, even when you think waiting isn’t worth it. Also, Dad’s not always right.”
Lily had a cup of coffee and a bowl of granola after an hour of yoga. The beach was a ten minute walk away. She didn’t gag at the disagreeable smell of rotting algae. She reveled in it. The sight of plovers hopping along, their beaks poking the wet sand to find breakfast, delighted her. The sunrise shone behind them.
She was beginning to enjoy the solitary days, the solo walks, the freedom to set her own schedule. A month after her partner passed, she had found a natural habitat where death and life mingled and new mixed with old.
Men with pitchforks remove the roof. Outside, tarpaper shreds cover the ground around the house. A few shingles made it down, too. In one short week, our roof will be guaranteed to last for another 30 years.
I will be 104 when this new roof is old enough to be replaced. I’ll be barely hanging on, more likely gone.
My children plan to keep the house. Such faith. In thirty years this house could stand on a desert or a flood plain. There might be no house. It’s silly to speculate. The future is not guaranteed; but the roof is.
A beloved king lived in a modest bungalow on the edge of the forest. His wife was the kindest and most beautiful of all women. Together they ruled the kingdom of Thryngia in peace and prosperity. If only they had a child to succeed them.
A charlatan heard of their plight. He found his way into their confidence and promised to bring to life the stillborn child they had buried scarcely weeks before. The charlatan’s cousin, a witch, transformed him into an infant and raised him from the child’s grave. The queen was not fooled. A mother knows her child.
The princess abided hiding away on an island. She kept hope alive for her people while her brother made his quest to free the kingdom from an evil wizard. Summer nights, crickets sang merrily and in the winter, deer fed on the hay she spread near her small cottage.
A loyal staff cared for the grounds and animals. They produced most things the household needed. The rest was magically delivered by an unmanned boat.
After he defeated the evil wizard, her brother arrived one moonlit night. They hugged, returned home to great acclaim , and the kingdom prospered under their rule.
As long as the children were hidden, there was hope. A tiny woman, nursemaid to the princess, spirited the girl away when an evil wizard tricked his way into the palace and cast a spell on the land.
The nursemaid, a witch, had warned the queen. At her behest, the prince was sent to live in a neighboring kingdom. He grew up to be that mage king’s most valuable assistant. When the time came for him to find his sister and break the spell, the kindly king produced three magical items: a feather, a flute, and a cloak.
(To be continued)
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 