Category: Family

Time to Reconnect

Photo by EmK Photography on Pexels.com

Do you remember Tom?

Your eyes are the first to understand. They open wide, drawn to a presence.

His cheeks not pale. Bright red, like the way they were that winter day. Electric day.

The day the snow fell in April.

And you met.

He came with a shovel. 

Cleared your sidewalk.

You had cookies and hot chocolate together.

The steam rose wet in the frigid air. 

Before he was your husband, walking boot deep in fluffy snow.

Tom. Laughing at unexpected falling flakes. Catching them in his mouth. 

Living life to the end.

The last word goes to Tom.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen in the Dog Days of Summer

Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com

The heat has drained the air of sound today. 

The birds have lost their voices to this hell of late summer. 

Furry squirrels are hiding in the shade of the maple tree and I guess that I would too if I wore a heavy coat like they do. 

But my dog is prancing from the front door to my chair. 

He’s licked my bare legs cool with sticky saliva. 

So we brave the heat though he’s not mad,

Nor am I English, like that saying goes. 

A Labrador, I guess he could be be English. 

I’ve never heard his accent.

Abstinence Based Sex Ed

Photo by Ana-Maria Antonenco on Pexels.com

The President’s Ten Proven Methods for Pregnancy Prevention.

  1. Eliminate storks.
  2. Go through menopause.
  3. Read the Trump Bible, exclusively, just $59.99.
  4. Never wean your first baby.
  5. Keep your knees closed.
  6. Concealed carry, stand your ground.
  7. Download the Pope’s hundred best Chicago rhythm and blues tunes.
  8. Get a rhythm groove.
  9. Don’t lose your groove.
  10. When you’re late, say you’re not.

These suggestions have been curated by the president’s own human copy machine while on international jaunts with his majesty. They will be distributed through the Department of Miseducation for use in classrooms this fall.

The new curriculum will be titled Ex-say Education-nay.  

It’s Mostly Fruit Juice

Photo by Alejandro Aznar on Pexels.com

My friend discovered her ability to conjure a pina colada from a glass of milk one evening at dinner. She said, rather desperately, to her unruly kids, “Eat your vegetables.” Et voila! Like water to wine, the milk in her glass tasted of rum.

Her talent saves us bundles. We go to this Italian restaurant that’s family friendly. My friend and I order milk, the kids get soda, a special treat. We never pay more than a few dollars for a drink and the kids eat their veggies.

The waiters never catch on, maybe because we leave a generous tip.

He’s Got to Pull His Weight

Photo by Blue Bird on Pexels.com

I was excited when this half-grown border collie came up the driveway, then I got worried. I told Pa, “Could be a working dog. They herd sheep.”

“We ain’t got no sheep.”

“Cows, maybe?”

“Don’t need no dog. Give him to John, he’s got sheep.”

I’ve been asking for a dog since forever. “Might scare…”

The dog sticks his nose in the air. Something’s rustling in the corn and out comes a big ol’ raccoon. The dog’s carrying on to beat the band and, miracle of miracles,  chases that raccoon clean away.

“Reckon he’ll do.”

High praise from my dad.

Irresistible Impulse

Photo by Alexander Popadin on Pexels.com

He said- You said, Yes.

She said- I said, not yet. Another time. A later time.

He said- But your eyes said yes

She said- My eyes don’t speak for me.

He said- Your eyes speak to me.

She said- Looks can deceive.

He said- So you admit it? You lied. Those gorgeous blue eyes lied?

She said- You should have known. You should have asked, clarified, not taken things at face value.

He said- Whatever. Now we have this adorable cat. 

She said- This purring cat, we’re cat parents now.

He said- I’m a sucker for gorgeous blue eyes.

What Goes With a Fedora?

Photo by Esra Afu015far on Pexels.com

The linen fedora sat jauntily on the Duchess’s head. “Who needs a tiara. On to the ball.”

Her gown took up most of the limo’s back seat, leaving the Duke with scant room to spread his tails. “I can’t very well wear a top hat with you in that get-up.” He sniffed loudly.

The Duchess handed him a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “Then wear a bowler. Or maybe a feathered bonnet. Wear a tiara if you want.” She hugged up her husband.

The Duke said, “You need a trench coat to go with the hat.”

“Why does everything need to match, darling?”

Things People Never Get Over

Photo by Guilherme Rossi on Pexels.com

“I’m at the airport.”

A deep fake? They’d talked this past week; she hadn’t mentioned a visit. “Who is this?”

“Don’t you recognize your mother’s voice?”

“Then, when did we last speak?”

“Saturday. Marcy left you and I’m here to help.”

“She’s having a midlife crisis. She just needs…”

“It’s not what she needs, it’s what you need. Pick me up, or I can get a Lyft.”

He’d made peace with his wife’s decision. His mother would give him the advice she wished she’d had when his father left. She wouldn’t notice the salt she was rubbing in his wounds.

Sitting For a Haircut When Labor Starts

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

“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.

Oh Lord, Let Me Be the Person My Answering Machine Thinks I Am.

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.