Category: Slice of Life

Advice from an Older Me to My Six Year-old Self

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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.”

Contemplating the Future with a Roof over My Head.

Photo by Peter Kessler 2025

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.

What to Bring for Writer’s Workshop

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Packing list: 

Five outfits that try, but not too hard
Light jacket
Late night reading snacks
Late night reading
Extra pillow for maximum comfort
Decent sleep
Talking points
Listening ears
“Yes, and,” improv
Elevator speech for work in progress
Courage 
Pages and pages of stories, read and absorbed
Positive outlook
Notebook for lectures
Crosswords for downtime
Laptop
iPad
Paper
Pen
Yoga mat
Intention 
What will I bring to each day, what can I take from each day, what will I give to others each day
Small talk
Significant talk
Insight
Creative grit
Sturdy walking shoes 
Walk in others shoes
Breathe

A Boy Lost My Glove

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Bunny tail, soft and furry warm,
The boy insisted that I keep it.
Who knows what it meant to him.
He had so little.

The boy insisted that I keep it.
The best apology he could make.
He had so little;
It seemed like a huge sacrifice;

The best apology he could make.
I told him words were enough;
It seemed like a huge sacrifice,
The guilt another blow to his fragile ego.

I told him words were enough.
Who knows what it meant to him,
The guilt another blow to his fragile ego,
Bunny tail, soft and furry warm.

Mold From Outer Space is Growing in Her Bathroom

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It started as a small patch of mold in the corner of the shower. She meant to clean it before she went to Chicago on business, but then the trip was moved up and her toddler had an ear infection. So many things to do and so little sleep.

On the plane she remembered the mold. She called her husband, but he didn’t pick up. Her phone overflowed with messages when she landed. Her family had fled. The paper published above the fold pictures of infected mold and space aliens. She was completely amazed. She’d never had a green thumb.

Chekhov’s Gun Meets Occam’s Razor

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Mary’s gone crackers. It’s her husband’s fault. Occam thinks the world is an orderly place. He believes in simple, direct solutions.

Mary disagrees, she believes in Chekhovian twists and turns. What’s more, she expects that if there is a gun, it will go off in the end. She is correct.

Mary bought a gun safe for the pistol that belonged to Occam’s grandfather. For months, she nagged Occam to lock it up. She pleaded, she threatened. The simplest solution was to stow it herself. She looked everywhere for the gun, only to find Occam out shooting at zigzagging jack rabbits.

Reading the Room

Photo by Monica McHenney

If Sadie had any idea this girl, who’d assured Sadie they didn’t know each other, would look at her hand and turn her world upside down, she would have walked right past that “Psychic” sign in the window and bought a sack of corn instead.

The girl said someone was lying to her. Sadie’s sister, always a suspect; maybe her boyfriend was playing around; then again, the neighbor claimed she hadn’t seen the Amazon package that Sadie’s cousin sent.

Sadie recognized the girl in her P.E. Class.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” 

“My aunt’s the psychic. Yeah, I was lying.”

A Parasol, a Stroll, and an Unfortunate Act of Nature

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On my way from Musée Marmottan Monet to Palais de la Découverte, I chanced on a rare display of public temper between two girls.
One held a lacy parasol, the other grabbed it. The parasol moved to-and-fro like the flag on a rope in a tug of war. I couldn’t understand their French, but the pinches sur l’arrière said it all. Oh là là, they went at it.

A gust of wind broke the umbrella. They shouted in unison, “Oh là là, oh là là,” and laughed. It puzzled me, the change of mood, but I guessed they were sisters.

Moving Day

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On moving day, a steady stream of neighbors walked past as the movers unloaded.

“What a cute dog.” A woman dressed in pajamas bent to stroke Tartar’s head and seemed surprised when he growled. “Well I never…”

“Let him get used to…”

“That dangerous thing. Keep him away.”

She retreated behind a man with a pistol in his belt. “And pick up after him. Or else.”

As they left, my closest neighbor wanted a higher fence, “You pay for it.”

A wild-eyed woman crossed the street, frantic. “No barking and no UFOs.”

I told the movers to reload the truck.

Inspired by a prompt from One Creative Writing Prompt a Day by Lita Kurth

Cash for Teeth

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“Guess what the going rate for teeth is,” Marjorie said.

“Uh, three dollars.” Angie thought that was an outrageous sum. She’d once got a quarter for a wisdom tooth from a boyfriend. A joke. The Tooth Fairy gave her a dime for each.

“Six and change.” Gotcha, her grin said.

“Oh, c’mon.” Angie thought Marjorie exaggerated to get attention.

But later, Angie ran across an item in News of the Weird. Six was the average. Some kids got a Benjamin for each tooth. She said to her mother, “You ripped me off.” Then she told her how.

Mom laughed. “Inflation.”