I wonder

Today’s topic: I wonder. My first 50 words . . .

I wonder if she still likes lima beans. Does she still pay avid attention to the international news from Eastern Europe? Can she still write a powerful sentence? Did she navigate the perils of drugs and alcohol during her adolescence and make it through to adulthood still able to take advantage of her potential?

There have been many ten-year-old people in my life, passing by year after year. They blur after a while. But some stand out. Like scruffy, blonde haired . . .

Garage Sales

Today’s topic: garage sales. My first 50 words . . .

I don’t stop at garage sales. I have too much junk already. So I don’t know why I stopped at this one. Okay. I do know. It was the gray haired woman. She stood in the driveway near a thick stand of bamboo that flanked the drive. Her hair was very short, as if it was just growing back in after chemotherapy. She threw her head back to drink from a can of Diet Pepsi and her body made this irresistable line against the green of the bamboo that forced me to hit the brakes. . . .

I dreamed

Today’s topic: I dreamed. My first 50 words . . .

I woke smiling, almost laughing. I felt good because I dreamed I was leaving him. I told him I was leaving and I plonked him over the head with a jumbo sized box of Kleenex. Whack, whack, whack.

I didn’t stop to analyze what the Kleenex signified to my unconscious mind. I was too happy to have had a dream, any dream, about him that wasn’t a nightmare, that didn’t wake me with a heart-pounding thud at 3 AM. . . .

I remember . . .

I remember dancing to Sarah Vaughan’s Misty in a dark, sawdust-strewn bar in Estes Park. Every sound from the jukebox felt exquisite, perfect. Her voice and my body moved with the same heart, the same soul.

It was afternoon, outside the rain sprinked through the sunlight, but I was inside, in this dark cave with this beautiful sound moving my body. . .