I Want

“I want it to be bright blue with accents of bright yellow.”

The painter set down two gallons of grey paint on the plastic covered floor. He stood up and gave her a long look. “We agreed on grey,” he finally said.

“I’ll pay for the extra paint,” she said. “I’m sure about this. It will remind me of Greece and sunshine.”

The painter didn’t have time for another delay, another trip to the paint store. This client was making him crazy. He wanted to punch her in the face. He wanted to pour grey paint down her throat. He stepped closer to her and couldn’t help the menace in his voice. “We agreed on grey,” he said again.

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The Cave

. . . the dolphins led Charlie across the bay toward one of the smaller islands planted there. The locals called it ‘the slot’ because of a narrow fiord hidden from view. The opening into the slot was too small for a fishing boat and Charlie hadn’t been there in years.

He immediately saw a boat anchored near the small half-moon spit of sand that formed a beach. Above it was a cave. There was a big white tent at the cave’s entrance. As Charlie slowed to move onto the sandy landing, he saw a woman. She was blood soaked.

Charlie glanced around for other people as he ran toward the woman. . . .

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Come Here

The morning chill hung in the air as Charlie’s boots thumped against the weathered wood of the dock. As he approached the boat he saw dolphins. They chittered at him and turned away. Then they came back and did it again.

It looked like they were saying, “Come here. Follow us.”

“What is this,” he muttered, “an episode of Lassie.”

But instead of climbing into his fishing boat he jumped in the small speedboat and slowly moved away from the dock. The dolphins gathered in front of him and darted away. He followed. . . .

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Zoom – Zoom

Zoom – Zoom the car said when I turned the key. The radio came on and the words disappeared.

“Why did your car say zoom?” asked the youngster in the back seat.

“Because we’re going to zoom through the world so fast we’ll be at the ice cream shop by 2 o’clock,” I answered.

How many times can a child ask you if it’s 2 o’clock yet? Even while zooming around the world, it’s a lot of times.

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Let’s Dance

“Let’s dance,” he said. “It’s almost the solstice and the days will grow longer.”

“Charlie,” she answered. “It’s freezing out here.” She slammed the car door behind her. “And we can’t dance in the driveway.”

“Sure we can,” Charlie said with a flourish. He held out a hand. She couldn’t resist. She took it.

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Best Thanksgiving Ever

It was the best Thanksgiving ever! All her cousins were here, including Jerry. Jerry was 16. He was so cute with his dimples and his curly hair. Eight year old May was just realizing how cute Jerry was. She wanted him to notice her, give her some attention. When he asked her to follow him into the gardening shed, she was happy to do it. . . .

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Happy to see you

Folks who come by here are mostly regulars. At a time like this with illness taking so many people away each day, it’s a great pleasure to see the regulars come by and say hello. It’s nice to know you’re okay, you’re still kicking, you’re still writing. Keep writing.

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The First Election

The first election I recall being aware of was Stevenson vs. Eisenhower back in the 1950s when I was in junior high. My parents liked Ike, but my friend Judy was adamant about Stevenson. The interesting thing to me back then was that she cared so much, thought it was so important. Now I realize why – Judy was Jewish and the election mattered to her in ways I didn’t understand then. Since I turned 21, I’ve voted in every election. Have you?

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What’s that Smell

“What’s that smell?” Dad asked. He dropped his briefcase and car keys.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I burned some pizza in the oven earlier when it dripped.”

“Come on, that isn’t burned anything except maybe pot. Are you smoking weed in my house? That’s grounds for eviction, buddy.”

“Naw, pop, I wouldn’t do that. We have a deal.”

“Okay, then explain the smell, smart boy.”

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I’ll move if . . .

Every fall the big tree in my yard dumps 15 giant garbage bags of leaves for me to rake and bag. I think I’ll move to an apartment if I don’t have to clean up the leaves ever again. But then I think if I move the people in the apartment above me probably walk around all day like elephants. My house is nice and quiet. Decisions, decisions . . .

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